Reformation Day, 2006

Sure it's Halloween, but being the supporter of all things less popular, today I'll be celebrating Reformation Day.

What's Reformation Day, you ask? Remember Martin Luther? Not Martin Luther King Jr, just plain ol' Martin Luther. He was a feisty monk back in the day (1517), who saw a lot of discrepancies between what he read in the Bible and what he saw the church doing. So, like any of us would NEVER do, he wrote out 95 theses and nailed them right on the front doors of the church.

So, how should we go about celebrating such a wonderful day?

Option 1: We could all read what the Bible says about how the Body of Christ should act, write out all the ways that it is currently failing in that area (on papyrus of course), and go up to our local church and post them up on the door by stabbing them with a ketchup-stained knife.

Option 2: We could be relevant to our culture and dress up in a great Halloween costume (preferably as Martin Luther) and then go execute option 1.

Option 3: We could rent the movie, "Luther" to better educate ourselves on the life and story of this man most Christians know very little about, even though he played one of the biggest roles in the church they go to looking the way it does (not Catholic).

Option 4: We could be both relevant to culture and be seen as more of freaks than our culture already sees modern Christians by, again, dressing up like Martin Luther, writing out our modern day thesis, and then making tons of copies of them, and stab them up on each door of the houses our kids will be trick or treating at.

Option 5: I could see what the Bible says about how I should live as a person who claim the name of Christ, note that I'm failing miserably, and stab myself with the proverbial knife on the metaphorical door of my heart. You could do the same.

However you decide to celebrate this glorious day in Protestant History, do it passionately, because that's how Martin Luther would have done it, dang it. Happy Reformation Day!

done and done.

The date was October 27th, the time 2:00am. I met my goal of tearing a phone book in half. The two halves of a phonebook you see pictured above are the remnants of the very phone book which I tore. Note the Bryan/College Station edition, and the green carpet, which could only be found in Gloria (Lauren Rouse's living room). Here's how it went down:

During my late night visit to the Marstellar girls, the conversation inevitably turned to the tearing of phone books. I expressed my anguish of not being able to attempt my monthly goal for lack of available phone books. Lauren briefly left the room, and promptly returned with a handful of phone books. When I say handful, I mean a stack that nearly went from her hands to her shoulders. It was the most beautiful sight I've seen since Hayden Hendrick's Spaghetti Day. I proceeded to attempt to rip one of those books in half, and somehow I was successful (again, see picture above). Upon tearing the book, I recalled that my camera was out in my car, and that we needed to film the feat so as to maximize the amount of entertainment available on my blog (because what I'm going to post on my blog is constantly on the mind). I got the camera, had Lauren film me, and twice I failed to tear a phone book... so the picture will have to suffice for now.

Fear not though, we've still got a few days until Reformation Day, so you may well have a video in the near future.

what happened Sunday?

This is a pretty highly anticipated post for "online diary for the masses." I made the mistake of promising some of my readers (via a series of away messages) an update on my very cool Sunday. I said that when I woke up on Monday, I'd update the blog and share my fun day with everyone. Well it's late, but here it is.

Look at Skylar. Isn't she extreme? This picture is for everyone who's ever said to me, "I'd never imagine you driving that car." Well would you picture me in Skylar if she had a boat on her head? She did on Sunday! She's so cool.

Sunday I had to work from 10 to 6. Any other day of the week I would use the verb "got to" as opposed to "had to," but this being a Sunday, the verb changes. I was pretty upset about having to miss church for this, our last day of formal training. There had been talk all week about a Sunday night moon-lit paddling outing after work. I immediately thought, "I want to go" but then my brain said:

"You don't have a boat" - REI Staff gets free rentals

"You drive Skylar, she can't carry a boat" - Adam from work carries a 17 ft. kayak on his Accord

"You aren't cool enough" - I'm new here, so the people don't have to know that I'm a poser yet.

As you can see, I ended up going and having a wonderful time on White Rock Lake (see previous post). We sported the night paddle in October, when the air is colder than the water.

Before we loaded up the boat and drove off to the lake, another pretty important event happened (other than Skylar carrying her first boat). I was awarded one of these:

That is a big deal. It's the highly coveted REI green vest, complete with lots of pockets full of vital information, three pens, and a name badge bearing my REI name (for now), "Derrick." I hope to have my next name tag say "D.O." but we'll see.

white rock lake

I love parks. I have no problem with a percentage of my tax dollars going towards parks and services. I took this picture at my new favorite park in Dallas, White Rock Lake Park. See downtown across the lake? Isn't it little? Fun huh? Thank you Dallas for building such an escape right in the middle of yourself.

I'm so employed!

Sometimes in life, you just gotta do what you gotta do to make ends meet. That's why I've recently taken another job (other than the beautiful one at REI). That's right. I'm now officially Chief Jiffy News Correstpondent -- something I will certainly add to my existing resume. For my debut news update, click here. (Or right there where it says Jiffy News ---->)

a proposal for new management

None of us will soon forget where we were when we heard about Judy Blume's retirement from Jiffy News. I was sitting right here at my computer after waking up around noon from a solid night's sleep. The death of such a beloved and informative blog does not occur without the world-wide-web community feeling the impact. To add insult to injury, earlier today I clicked the Jiffy News link just for old time's sake, and the dreaded Error 404 was displayed on my monitor! How are people supposed to get their news? Sure they could watch CNN or read up on the countless long-winded websites that offer such information, but who's got the time? Well I might.

That's right. After hours of self-consultation I've decided to contact Judy (via this post) and submit to her my application, that I might become a Chief News Correspondent for Jiffy News. I could help write news stories, and she, being the founder and CEO, would have the liberty to edit, erase, or elaborate on anything she so chose. This came as a suggestion from Heather Hendrick herself, queen of popularity and blogging. I think that says something right there. I did modify and add a few things to Heather's original proposal, which can be read in the comment section of my previous post.

So Judy, what do you think? All I'd need from you is the okay and the password (that way the URL doesn't have to change, which will save your readership some confusion). I even made a logo in Paint! I'm anxiously awaiting your thoughts.

EMERGENCY!

I came out of blog retirement to present to my readers an unexpected emergency that occurred the other night: I had just blown out a candle that had been burning for 5 hours or so, and by some God-forsaken lapse of judgement I picked up said candle, brought it to my face so as to better smell it, and inadvertently dumped the wax all over myself.

By the grace of God, I wasn't naked when this happened. My desk, chair, and clothes took the brunt of the burn. Six seconds later the real problem presented itself: Dried wax is now splatter-painted all over my padded desk chair, the crotch of my pants, and one of my Sunday shirts.

This is where you, my readers -- my readers who are mothers or someday hope to be -- come in to play. I need to learn the best method of getting dried wax out of clothes. My chair is a lost cause. I was able to clean off the desk using my drivers licence. Now I'm facing the battle of the week in my laundry basket's contents.

So for all you moms whose children have tainted their clothes with Christmas Eve Candlelight Service candles, or the moms whose own clothes have soiled by melted crayons, this is my plea for your guidance. If in fact my clothes are as lost a cause as my chair, I'll be able to cope, but I'm not going down without a fight.

In regard to my previous post: That was really written in hopes that Judy would read it, feel terrible for ousting everyone's 6th favorite blog-writer from the web, and return to giving us the news like she did for so many days in the past. Thank you for those who showed love and concern. Right back atcha.

peace

Just minutes ago I read some sobering, yet enlightening news: Jiffy News will cease to exist. Sobering because, though it is a young blog, it's popularity grew exponentially, and many Internet surfers felt at home there. Enlightening because it made me realize: if the people at Jiffy News can decide to up and quit their job of educating the masses, then I can certainly quit my job of online diary-ing for them. So that's it. Thank you Judy for the eye-opener. I quit too! Who's with us?

my worldview

Whoever designed my apartment complex did a pretty good job of making residents feel safe regarding others trying to peek through their windows. My initial thought towards having all of our windows blocked by trees was undoubtedly negative. Not that we would have been able to see far had the trees not been there, but the trees block the sun, which reduces the amount of natural light that is able to enter our rooms.

Over the years I've been very wrong about a whole lot of stuff, especially when it comes to first impressions of people, things, or situations. Well this is no exception.

I've been blessed with sightings like the one pictured above over and over the past few weeks. I never would have counted myself as a bird watcher, but I'm starting to recognize its appeal. When I can lay on my wonderful bed and simply look right out my window at a cardinal who doesn't know I'm spying on him (or her... I don't know birds yet), that's pretty pure.

This reminds me of when I was in elementary school and junior high. My Aunt Sherry would pick me up from school and take me to her house until my mom got off work. Each year, during our week-long autumn, I remember Sherry always talking about how beautiful the changing leaves were. I'm pretty sure I said they were too, but never really paid much attention to them. Now I could sit and stare at a fall-struck tree for thirty minutes and thoroughly enjoy it.

Events and changes like these are the subtle changes that make me realize the scary fact that I'm growing up.

I'm thankful that my God helps change my entirely screwed up mind and conforms it to look (and think!) like His.

Change is inevitable. That was on the wall in my 7th grade hallway. Whoever put those construction paper letters on the wall knew what they were talking about.

nine days in...

As you may recall, my goal for October, the only month of my life for which I've set a goal, is to tear a phone book in half. As of today, the 9th, this is how far I've been able to get.

That doesn't mean that I've been working on the same phone book all month. That'd be silly. I've taken the more logical route of trying a new phone book each time, and when I can tear no longer, I stop. As a result, now we're out of phone books for me to tear, but I'll figure something out.

When I presented my goal of the month to my all-too-edifying roommates, they both scoffed at me and assured me that I'd never be able to do it; that it was a feat only for strongman guys, like the Power Team. Even after seeing what I've accomplished thus far, they remain unbelievers. Well count that as all the more reason to complete my goal. I haven't lost heart.

I realize this isn't an exciting post, but it is necessary for you to know that I'm a man of my word, and I'm still trying. Today was the first day I've been able to tear at least some part of every page, A to Z. Last time I only made it to the J's or so.

Aaron, if you ever teach the man class again, you can make this activity part of it. An ice breaker or something.

the verdict: part two

So there I was, sitting on the patio at Taco Cabana, sharing a meal and some biblical fellowship with my good friend Brad Smith, when my phone rings. Ignoring the impulse to be polite to Brad by not answering the phone, I picked it up and my new good friend Julie was on the other line.

Why is she our new good friend? Because of what she had to say following our greeting.

She told me that she thought I'd be a good fit for the REI team, and that she'd like to offer me a position.

I told her to go right on ahead, offer away.

She said I'd be holding it down upstairs in the apparel and footwear section. Do you understand the magnitude of that statement? The only material possession in which I place any value (Chacos) are the very items I will be selling to the American population! Praise the Lord, no?

Lucky for you and me, Brad was ready with my camera and was able to photo-document this glorious occasion.

Now I'm off to update my "work" status on facebook. Goodbye unemployment, hello REI!

freshman door... an epic

Before I get into the meat of this entry, I must define the term "freshman door" for any of my readers who aren't familiar with it. Picture a set of double doors. We all know of a pair or doors, either at a church, a school, a gym, wherever. The freshman door is the one of the two that is normally locked. It's called the freshman door because freshman try to open it. Nobody else. (I know this isn't an inerrant description, but please bear with me, we've got a ways to go).

Today Mikey asked me if I'd like to join him for a cycling class at 24 Hour Fitness, because he works there and could get me in for free. Normally I wouldn't subject myself to such torture, but I've been pretty active lately, so I figured I might as well oblige.

We walk in to the gym, Mikey shows his "I work here" card while I'm left to fill out paperwork because I answered "No" to the "have you ever been here before" question (freshman door #1). When I finish falsely filling in the blanks, the people behind the desk inform me that they won't be taking my papers, but to wait for the one who would.

Soon after a nice man whose name tag read "Mark" walked up. Mark had salesman written all over every fiber of his being, and he asked me all these questions about why I wanted to join the gym. I immediately made it very clear that I had no intentions of joining and that I was only here for a cycling class with my friend, his fellow employee. However, as I said, Mark was a salesman, so he would not be so easily deterred. He proceeded to give me a tour of the facilities, all while telling me that he knew I wasn't planning on joining, but his manager would be mad if he didn't show me around. Walking around this facility with an employee all but screams, "Hey, I'm new here, and I don't work out but I was going to start if all you people don't mind." (freshman door #2).

After the tour Mark brought me back to his desk, showed me a bunch of prices for different plans and assured me that it was only because he was supposed to. Then he threw out the big guns. In full infomercial style Mark assured me that if I signed up today, he'd knock off all kinds of fees and I'd leave with the balloon of my choice. I managed to resist his kind offers, which should have come as no surprise to him, because the first thing I said to him all day was that I wasn't joining. Thanks for trying Mark.

Finally Mikey and I enter in to the cycling (spinning) class room. Unlike the rest of the gym, this room was hot. There was no air flow, and these aren't the kind of stationary bikes that produce any. I guess those are a thing of the past. These bikes are the Spinner NXT's, pictured above. Mikey and I waste no time adjusting the height of our seats, handlebars, and cupholders.

The teacher walks in, turns off the lights and leaves only the faint blue lights burning, turns on the remixed not-so-popular hits from the 90's, and asks, "Is it anybody's first time today?" to which I raised my hand (freshman door #3). She talked us through our warm up, which includes pedaling while stretching out your upper body.

Here comes the biggest "freshman door" moment of my post-college life. As I was sitting upright, pedaling at a comfortable pace and crossing my arms in a manner unknown outside of local gyms, it happened. My seat just gave out and I was instantly moved from the J setting to what I guess was A. That's a 10 letter drop! (freshman door #4).

I, of course, bursted out with one very short, loud spurt of laughter - one that is often confused as a cry of pain, not pleasure. Everyone in the class turned a looked at me, other than the teacher whose bike was already facing me. Because of my inadequacy, she had to tell the class to keep going while she stopped, got off her bike, and came to make sure I was okay. Keep in mind, there are probably 4 boys and 20 girls in this class... She politely showed me how to properly adjust (and tighten!) my seat, and proceeded to indirectly kick my butt for the rest of the hour. I walked out of that room sweating like a fat kid, my face as red as it used to be during my rings routines.

In closing, I'd like to thank 24 Hour Fitness for facilitating my afternoon of healthy humiliation, and I'd really like to thank you guys for reading this, the very long first chapter of my book about how to laugh at yourself.

CELEBRATE!!!

Ladies and gentleman, you are truly experiencing an exciting event right now, even as you read. The post that your eyes are currently beholding is the 150th post on my blog! It's the sesquicentennial post, and that gives us a reason to celebrate. I'd like everyone to take part in an enjoyable activity today that you normally wouldn't let yourself do:

- Eat that ice cream
- Skip that workout
- Buy that new CD
- Post a comment on the "online diary for the masses"
- Cartwheel

And when you're done enjoying whatever activity you've chosen, I'd greatly appreciate it if you would take the time to participate in the first ever (maybe second...) "online diary for the masses" poll. Please friends, answer me this one question in the form of a comment below.

How often do you check this blog?

I'm asking so as to better meet the needs of my constituents, because seriously, where would I be without you guys? Certainly not sitting here publishing my 150th post, that's for dang sure. Seriously, I'd love to know how often you check this blog so that I'll be able to know how often I ought to update it. I've got all sorts of potential posts running through my brain to take us from 150 to 1,500, I just need you guys to tell me how quickly you want to get there. Thanks for hanging out with me this far.

my goal for October

The past few weeks I've had plenty of free time on my hands, lots of time to think about what skill I'd like to pick up before REI hires me. Well I've figured it out: I want to tear a phonebook in half. What screams, "I'm a man" like accomplishing such a feat? Well lots of things, but I'm going to try it anyway.

(note: This is a short post to make up for the longer one I wrote earlier today, but if you've got time, know that you're allowed to read more than one post per visit... it'll be ok.)

this weekend's wedding

There's no getting around it. It's just that time in my life. You know the time. You're either experiencing it right now, or you recall it happening to you back in the day. It is an inevitable season that middle-class Americans face. Just as the the snow has no choice but to melt when spring ends, so too it seems that college graduates have little to do upon finishing school other than to get married. (Now obviously this doesn't apply to all college graduates, but it does apply to enough of them that they, though single, end up spending hundreds and hundreds of dollars on tux rentals or bridesmaids dresses for their fellow graduates' weddings.)

I was blessed this past weekend with the opportunity of standing on stage with my boy Drew Lewis as he fell into the beautiful trap of wedlock. A lot of people who find themselves in this period of life will often be heard complaining (albeit cleverly discrete) that they're "always the bridesmaid, never the bride" or a male equivalent of the sort. I've not reached that point yet. I still just enjoy going to weddings to see dearly loved friends that I wouldn't get to see otherwise. Weddings also allow you a chance, if you want it, to meet new people. All in all I just really enjoy weddings, and I'm glad that I'm allowed to be a part of them from time to time. I'm also very glad that Drew and Lindsey are cool enough to put me as "D.O." as opposed to Derrick Oliver in the wedding bulletin, pictured above... Seriously, that is a very cool thing to do.

I'll leave you with a story that happened at the rehearsal, because it is a pretty good representation of my lack of social skills.

The wedding party is ordered to go stand by their name tags on the stage. I found the one that said "D.O. Oliver" and stood behind it. The set up was such that each groomsmen had a bridesmaid accompanying him, three pairs on either side of the bride and groom. Having been raised by parents who tried their best to teach me how to interact with other humans, I took the liberty of introducing myself to the bridesmaid I was to escort in the ceremony. She informed me that her name was Erin and we exchanged the usual "where are you from/ what do you do" small talk.

During our discussion I learned that she is a Kanakuk girl. A few minutes later (seriously, only a few, it had not been long) I decided I'd tell her of my Kanakuk experience, so I said to her confidently, "Emily, I'd like you to know that I went to KAA this summer."

"It's Erin" she retorted immediately.

I responded by, of course, overreacting and making sure that she knew that I really was aware of what an idiot I was. The good thing about starting a relationship like that is that there is no place to go but up, and the rest of the weekend went just fine.

Thanks to Drew and Lindsey for letting me be a part of their special day, and thanks to you for reading this far on this longer than average post. Since I'm pretty sure my mom is the only person who is still reading, here's a treat for you: Your son in his tux, sans jacket, next to a chair that makes him look significantly taller than he really is
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