where are you black sweatshirt?

I really really really miss my black sweatshirt.

It all started about two weeks ago. I found a great orange shirt on sale for $4 and snatched it up with little thought to what I would do with it. It was such a good deal the rest didn't really matter. I just had to get the shirt. Post purchase, I sat pondering (literally) how i would wear this new purchase... and it came to me... layers. and the outer layer would be a black sweatshirt. It just so happens that I had one in my closet, so the next morning, eager to put together my new outfit, i whipped it out and put it all together. Then i saw it... "it" wasn't just one thing. "It" was several things.

Before I continue here I would like to illustrate a fact of my life that I have learned to live with throughout the years. I have a very vivid imagination. I can create idealistic scenarios in my mind with so much detail and perfectness that often times when i attempt to recreate it in reality, I am disappointed. When i was very young (say about 2nd grade) I remember lying in bed one night imagining that I could draw a picture of a raccoon. I had it pictured in my mind and imagined my pencil perfectly forming the delicate lines that eventually made up a very realistic looking raccoon. I was beyond excited about bringing this to life and so the very next morning when I got to my classroom I busted out a piece of paper and a pencil and began to draw what I had completed in my mind the night before. However, all did not go as planned. My fingers would not obey what my mind thought up... and i ended up with a very, very unrealistic looking raccoon. In fact it probably didn't even resemble any kind of animal in the raccoon family, or any family... it was sad... I was sad.

After this experience I learned to leave many things to my imagination... but some things just have to be brought to life. And this particular outfit was one of them.

The "it" that i referred to adds up to a list of things so very wrong with my black sweatshirt. It had a couple, if not more, what looked like halfway bleached bleach stains. There were small tears from the last three years of constant wear. And to top it off, it had been washed and worn so many times it looked like i inherited it from a much larger someone than myself.

It just would not do.

But it had to suffice... for the time being. I decided right then that i needed to buy another black sweatshirt... and I would do it today. TODAY. So i went off to my very favorite clothing store, Old Navy to find one... there was an enormous sale going on, so as i was distracted from my main purpose, I still did not forget... and then, there it was. Sitting on a shelf, so lonely... and MARKED DOWN... to $7. It was a happy day...

This all brings me to today. my beloved black sweatshirt that helped me accomplish in reality what i had imagined is taking a vacation amongst alicia's clothing. I miss you dear sweatshirt, and i wish that you would come back to me. I think about you every day and when you come back, I promise to appreciate you for everything you are worth... just about $6.97.

stalk me

For all you e-stalkers out there, this is for you.

I know how you think because i happen to be one myself... I have not gone to the point of following people in real life, however, last night i came dangerously close to having to admit otherwise.

After a lovely evening at rochester's most upscale movie theatre (aka Movies 10 aka the dollar theatre) watching "no reservations" my dear friend alicia and i decided to cap off the night of elegance with a quick stop at none other than McDonalds. For those of you familiar with Rochester, there are quite a few mickey d's around, but in my experience, the one on hylan drive in henrietta has them all topped. They have attempted to do what not many other mcdonalds have done before. They have these cutsie high tables and chairs to match the height, and even a little section with a love seat and a couple posh chairs. At any rate, that is the sole reason I picked that particular mcdonalds last night, yay for effective decorating. We each got a mcflurry and proceeded over to one of the oh so "starbucksesque" high tables. After a few minutes, a police officer walked in and ordered his late dinner. Now, for the record, this was not just any police officer... turns out he is US army military police... and he was, ahem, good looking. I'll just leave it at that. OH SNAP! This is where it gets crazy. When it comes to this kind of thing, I am all talk and no game. I would never approach a guy without any kind of reciprocated action beforehand. This is not the case with Alicia. We discussed to great length the different approaches she could take to initiate conversation, however, my main goal was not to carry anything out in reality, but to get a good laugh out of it. As we progressed, I realized that she was dead serious about talking to this guy. So when he finally got up to leave, guess who else got up to leave. That would be us.

The story now continues from the inside of my car where I say we will follow him, with the underlying clause on my end "as long as he is going the way we are going." This lapse of communication between the two of us was almost enough to make me completely pass out from embarassment, because had she been driving, we would have followed him to syracuse and back. Yes, last night I almost stalked a police officer.

It all makes for a funny story, but i realized a few things about myself in the process. I am not as outgoing as I would like to think. I am also unable to throw caution to the wind as easily as I used to... but i realize that is not necessarily a bad thing. I have done it too many times and seen it go terribly wrong. So my conclusion is that while it is fun to talk about, real life stalking is just not cool on any level.

does God play poker?

The other day I was sitting around thinking to myself... self, what should you do with your life. I am pleased to report that I am no closer to the answer now as I was then. However, I did find that in times like this, it helps to expel my thoughts on paper... or in this case, the keyboard. Typing is easier anyways... and faster.

How many times have i begun to take stock in what i have accomplished (or not yet accomplished) and become overwhelmingly depressed? Sorry, don't answer that question... the answer is "too many." I need to simplify the thoughts i have about my life and refocus. Truly, my purpose lies in God's hands, and often i wish that he would tip it to me and let me peek at what we have to work with. It occurs to me however, that playing poker with God is not the smartest idea. I've heard it said that God never plays dice... dice is a game of chance, poker though, is not. To be a good poker player you have to know how to read people... that's basically the whole game. It makes sense to me that the almighty Creator of Heaven and Earth knows his creation inside and out, foward and backward... so why would i play poker with him when he so clearly has the advantage? I'm not.

Instead, what if I were to give my cards over to him... and just watch. In high stake poker tournaments, often a player will be sponsored into the game by a wealthy (albeit not so good at poker) benefactor. The pro goes into the game with someone else's money and what he or she wins is split between him or herself and the sponsor. In applying this to God and me, I would say though that God would not only win the poker tournament (aka my life) but also GURANTEE my winnings. All i have to do is give up my hand...

Something to think about for sure.