I'm really not that busy

I'm sorry I don't update regularly these days. I'd use the excuse that I'm busy, but let's be honest, I'm no more busy than normal. Sure, I'm a full-time student, but I'm only taking 9 hours. I'm working a part-time job, but it's very part time. As in, I'm getting maybe 15 hours a week. On that front, I am looking for more work. But I digress.

Let's look at my life right now: I do homework; I read a lot of textbooks; yet I still make time to watch TV. So why haven't I been writing down my thoughts on this blog? 'Cause my thoughts are boring these days. Usually I only write something down if I'm interested in what I'm writing. These days, there are some interesting things happening in my life, but I don't think of these events as noteworthy. Maybe they are and I'm just not recognizing them. But here is my promise to both of my regular readers: more to come.

Tales from the Qwik Pack & Ship - Chapter 1

I screwed up. Big time.

This week, I'm at the store alone. My boss is in New Orleans until Tuesday. Not sure for what. The point is, he left me, the new kid, in charge.

Yesterday a man came in here with two packages to send out. One was just a regular shipment, no special instructions at all. The second was to be sent next-day air. Yesterday was Friday.

Normally, when someone says next-day air, they mean the next business day. This man did not specifically ask for Saturday delivery. I'm not putting the blame on him. I didn't think to even mention it either.

Today (Saturday), I received a phone call from that man requesting the tracking number. When he had looked up the package he called back, concerned that it had not arrived at its destination. I reiterate, I'm the new kid, so when something goes wrong like this, I'm really at a loss. At first I was thinking this was a simple issue of someone not getting what they thought they had paid for. Also at this time, I wasn't even considering the fact that it was supposed to be a Saturday delivery. I got his number and said I'd call back when I figured out what I could do.

So I figured out what he would get if he wanted a refund. Well, a refund on the difference. I called back and asked him to come in and I'd be happy to refund his money.

Fifteen minutes later, his wife walks through the door. Irate, she tells me the importance of the package and why it was supposed to arrive today. See, the recipient of this package, an iPod, is a little girl with a terminal illness. She's entering the hospital today for her next round of treatments. They wanted to get this iPod to her because it's the thing she wants more than anything else. But now it won't get to her until Monday.

Through tears, I apologized profusely, wishing there was something more I could do. I felt about 3 inches tall after that. And then I dropped to my knees. And I'm asking anyone reading this to take a moment to do the same. I don't know this little girl's name. I don't know exactly what's wrong with her. But God does. I'm not praying that an iPod would miraculously appear on this family's doorstep (though that would be a nice twist). I'm praying that God would place His hand on this girl. That He would provide comfort, peace, and strength to the family. That He would reveal Himself to them in a powerful way.

Surfing The Web

You know what's great about being one of the first people to walk on campus for those early morning classes? I get to be the one to clear away brand new spider webs with my face.

Can't Take The Heat

I've been in my apartment for just over three weeks. It's nice. I gotta say, I enjoy living on my own again. I've missed it. You know, the freedom of having your own bathroom. Not having to share the remote control with anyone. Everything on the DVR is something that I wanted to watch, not some obscure Trading Spaces clone. Plus, I don't have my mother barging in and making sure I'm home by curfew.

I'm kidding, by the way, I didn't have a curfew. In fact, I never had a curfew, even growing up. But I digress.

One of the benefits to renting a place from the school is that maintenance is taken care of by them. This is helpful because I have been having problems for the last two weeks.

My oven is sub-par. The first time I tried to use it, it worked fine. A few days later I turned it on to preheat... nothing happened. So I called maintenance. They came and replaced the heating element and it worked just fine. So that night I cooked some chicken nuggets. While they were cooking, I heard some popping sounds. I was slightly alarmed, but nothing was on fire, so my concern lessened. Days passed. I used the oven again. When I turned it on, the fuse blew. So I flipped the switch in the box and it came back on. Fine, I can handle that. This leads me to tonight.

I wanted to heat up a pizza. So, of course, I turned on the oven. Blew a fuse. Flipped the switch... nothing. I tested the stove top, that's fine. But the oven light won't come on. Not even the indicating light to let you know that it's heating up. Nothing inside works. So now I have to call maintenance again to have them fix my oven.

I just don't want them to think I'm an oven-killer. Maybe it's a sign. I should only eat things that can be cooked in a microwave.

Plus One

These wedding invitations keep pouring in. And with each invitation, I'm met with quite the dilemma: Do I check that I'm coming alone, or with a plus one?

According to Barney on "How I Met Your Mother," taking a date to a wedding is like taking a deer carcus on a hunting trip. Not that I'm basing any of my decisions on things that a fictional character on a sitcom says.

I'm singing in a wedding at the beginning of October. I've already responded that I'll be alone for that one. But for Andy's wedding, two weeks later, I have yet to respond. Mostly because the invitation was "misplaced" (see post: Just A Phone Call Away). Also because I don't know who I would ask to be a plus one.

See, I've never had a plus one before. I think it would be fun. And I have someone in mind to ask, but should I? Would she be willing to make the drive to Richmond for the wedding? I'll be in Richmond the day before for the rehearsal and what not, so it's not like I can go pick her up before the wedding.

That's my problem, you work on that, I'm gonna go eat a Pop-Tart.

Fitting In

Last weekend I went to Charlotte to visit my friends Andy and Chrissy. This couple is one of several that will be tying the knot in the very near future. As a groomsman in Andy's wedding and a best man in Brandon's wedding, the time has come to get fitted for the wedding attire.

So while in Charlotte, Andy and I went over to After Hours at the local mall and a nice woman felt me up. That sounds worse than it should have. I was measured for my suits. I say suits and not tuxes on purpose. See, for Andy's wedding, I'll be wearing a suit. For Brandon's I'll be wearing a tuxedo. All tuxedoes are suits, but not all suits are tuxedoes. See how that works?

The lady used her tape measure and got me to raise and lower my arms. When she got to my waist I had to make a split decision: Do I suck in or not? I chose not to. I figured that if I sucked in for the measurement, then I'd have to suck in for the entire wedding. Not something I should be doing when standing for a long period of time.

Then the time came to pay. Now, I could have gotten away with paying $40 at that moment, but I decided to go ahead and pay for the rental of both suits right then and there. $290 and some change. Nothing like dropping close to $300 for two suits that I'll only wear once each. Congratulations kids! I know the years will be good to you!

The Part Time Working Man

I got a job!

Maybe I shouldn't have used the exclamation point. It's not as glamorous or exciting as all that piece of punctuation would suggest. I'm working for a little store called Quik Pack & Ship. Imagine the UPS Store, but we also ship things with FedEx, DHL, and the Postal Service.

One day as I was walking to class I noticed a flyer on the bulletin board. This place was seeking a seminary student for part time help. So I went by to inquire about this part time position. I introduced myself to Mike, the owner of this particular store, and he seemed to like me right away.

He said he likes to hire the seminary students because they seem to be more mature than younger folks. He really has a lot to learn about me. Anyway, he seems to be willing to work with my class schedule and the store hours leave plenty of time for me to study. Yeah, that's right, I said study.

I began work on Wednesday. I was really only there for two hours and all I did was get bombarded with information and "how tos." It was a lot to take in all at once. But it's really not that bad. I went in Thursday for some more information. By the end of those two hours, Mike was confident that I'd have no problem picking this up. Whatever you say Mike.

It really won't be hard work. But then again, it really won't be much pay or many hours. But it's a start. I'm definitely grateful for the opportunity to weigh packages and slap labels on them. That sounded sarcastic. But I really am.

Just A Phone Call Away

Today, as I was waiting for chapel to begin, I listened as a friend talked about a phone call she got from her mom. Her mother had told her that she had to come home this weekend for reasons I won't go into here. This got me thinking: When was the last time I got a phone call from my mom?

I've been in my new "home" for three weeks now and I've noticed that the frequency of phone calls has dwindled. That first week, I was getting calls from mom daily, sometimes twice. Now, time has passed (again, only three weeks) and I just don't get calls anymore. She called me Monday to confess that she had misplaced a wedding invitation that I had received.

She called at one point the week prior to tell me she wanted me to come home. Not just for a visit. No, she wants me to see the living room she had just painted. I just don't think I can bring myself to make the 3 hour drive just to look at the new taupe on the wall.

So I ask, have I been forgotten? It's not like I beg for money whenever she calls, as some college students often do. This is graduate school, let's not lower ourselves to act as undergrads.

So if you're out there and you need someone to talk to, feel free to call. If you have my number. I'm not just gonna give it out. That's crazy... posting a personal phone number on the world wide web. (Not that anyone reads this thing anyway.)

Mapquest

We live in a society that relies heavily on information. And for the most part, that information is readily available with the simple click of the mouse or a quick search on Google. Don't worry, this isn't a rant on the evils of the information superhighway. In fact, I'm very grateful that all this information is out there.

Now, I will admit that I complain from time to time about the directions I get from Mapquest. Occasionally I'll search for a route to a place of business and I'll get directed through a parking lot or some road that seemingly doesn't exist. For the most part, the good people at Mapquest get it right.

But I have to ask: what did we do before Mapquest and/or GPS? I've only been driving for 11 years of my life, but most of that time has been in the age of Mapquest. These days we can go online, input our starting point and destination, and, click, we have turn by turn directions and even a rough (sometimes very rough) estimate of how long it will take to get from point A to B. Crazy right?

So what did my parents do when they were my age? If they had to find somewhere in town, did they just rely on a rough mental image of the city layout and drive around 'til they got lucky? I'm sure long distances were a little simpler, take out a road atlas. But then when you get to your city of choice, what happens then? I mean, if you're driving to Boston, the standard atlas can get you to the greater Boston area, but what about side streets and secondary roads?

This brings me to another point: kids today don't know how to read a map!

The Fish Pen

Tonight I was watching some late night television. I happened to catch "I Shouldn't Be Alive" on the Discovery Channel. The story was that of a father and son who went on a rafting trip in the Alaskan wilderness and got stranded and seriously injured. That's not the funny part of the story. In fact, that part was kind of tragic. I mean, they both survived, hence the title "I Shouldn't Be Alive."

The funny part happened immediately after the show ended. A commercial came on that just seemed inappropriate after that story. A commercial for the Fish Pen. The opening shot is that of a young father and son hiking along a river with their fishing rods. Just seemed odd to me.

Have you heard of this Fish Pen thing? It looks like an ordinary pen. It has a cap and is small enough to fit in your pocket. But take the cap off, and sure enough, no pen. It's got a telescoping fishing pole tucked away inside. Now, you can carry the rod with you anywhere you go, but if you want to throw on a line, you have to attach the reel. A reel that seems to large to fit in your jacket pocket alongside this "pen."

And let's talk about the name "Fish Pen." Isn't the defining characteristic of a pen the fact that you can write with it? Yet this Fish Pen is nothing of the kind. No ink. Ergo, no writing. I'm a little disappointed in that ad agency. Come on guys, this is late night television. You need to step up your game.