So, today, I have gotten a haircut, gotten my phone checked out for errors, sent off my registration form to vote, and set up two new bank accounts. This might not sound like all too much, but in 6th year, time for errands isn't always high. I deeply relish filling out such to-do lists.
So, almost as a little sequel to last night's post, I have decided to not rely quite so hard on solidarity. God is an unchanging God, which of course is to be sought after, but he still had his "woo!" days and his "not so woo." days. And hat the honesty to call out the difference and enjoy the two. I seek to sing songs of praise when I am happy, and pray and perhaps even blog when I am sad, not just do nothing all the time in hopes that means nothing good or bad is happening. So let's live life to the full and other cliches! :D
Also, that dad is some kinda crazy mix of awesome, hilarious, and cruel for uploading that video! When dear David grows up, I doubt that teen Dave will have many kind words to say about becoming an internet phenomenon.
"Is this real?" "Is this gonna be forever?" - Aforementioned David.
At this rate, this blog is fast turning into "Personal Response to double games on a monday afternoon", but all the same. So far, I have liked cross country. It has been an opportunity to lightly push myself physically, for which I was, as they say: "game". But today involved running like you were being chased by a pack of velociraptors. For some reason, my spellcheck refuses to acknowledge that "velociraptors" is a word. Perhaps the inventors of firefox had a crippling fear like the guy who does XKCD and refused to admit they existed. Anyway.
Today was effectively "sprint day". Which was pretty lame. We did a warmup run of effectively the whole school, and then began just sprinting up and down the pitch. Sure, it was dressed up in various forms, but at the end of the day it was: "Run very quickly over here, and then back. Repeatedly, now!" Never before have I felt more like vomiting due to sport. We even did the aptly named "Suicides", which is just sprinting up and down a rugby pitch. And then our school's photographer, Mr. P, came to take photographs for the school newsletter. I was lagging behind in the group, and he kindly said: "You look like a man who's having a good time there, Lorcan!" "I think I'm going to puke. They did not mention this on the games options sheet. I was not informed!"
I am not sure if he took my photo or not. I am in two camps about my sweaty, nauseous, exhausted visage showing up in the school newsletter. Perhaps some will look upon it as a violation of human rights and bring down our current teacher to enforce levels of exercise that could be described as "Sane". On the other hand, I'm sure I really did look like crap. So that's not great.
I feel I could bring up my resistance to this scheme for religious reasons, for as it was written in first Corinthians 9:24: "24 Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize." And forsooth, as it was also written in Ephesians 6:13: "13 Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand."
So perhaps some sort of argument could be struck that I was not running the race in such a way that would allow me to, after having done everything, to be physically able to stand. All it would involve is some relative misquoting, come on!
The teacher is a relatively nice guy, don't get me wrong, he's a classy English guy who acts like a classy English guy to levels reaching Alan Partridge awkwardness, but the dude seems to have a borderline cruel streak when it comes to running. I understand his enthusiasm as a dude who does laps around the school pitches just for fun, but seriously, dude needs to realize that we're not all "athletes". And no matter what, never ever introduce a more challenging style of running with the phrase: "New regime." All anyone thinks of are Nazis. It's 6.6 miles next week, so if I come back reporting vomiting or profuse weeping, be not surprised.
I prefer a much more relaxed pace, I've never been much good at sprints. My skill lies not in power, but more endurance. I long for sturdiness and reliability over flash and bang. Steady minimum over unstable maximum. Short sentences over elaboration. :P Though of course like any other carbon-based life-form like us, I both long for and enjoy the peaks and valleys. Perhaps I simply choose to avoid them more often. But all things in moderation, including moderation, I suppose. I am in need of learning how to "chillax", as the kool kids say. I have found riding a flatter, unwavering line of existance not to be as satisfying as I once thought it would be. Don't worry though, I'm not going to go try crack or anything! XD
But enough of that for now. People need to stay open later, it was seriously irritating to find that both the barber and the banks were closed today. I never got that about banks. Open at 9, finish at four, never open on weekends. What is up with that? I'm not saying that the workers should be whipped to exhaustion, but seriously, just, I dunno, hire some new guys? Nobody else seems to have a problem with it. People's free time and the times banks are open seem to be two separated Venn diagrams. Never understood that.
Mal: I had a good day. Simon: You had the Alliance on you, criminals and savages... half the people on the ship have been shot or wounded including yourself, and you're harboring known fugitives. Mal: We're still flying. Simon: That's not much. Mal: It's enough. -Closing of "Serenity", the pilot of "Firefly".
I have that title because I am only about halfway through the book. When I finish it, perhaps we will need to thoroughly discuss Kevin. But for now, we need only light discussion. A brief discourse, perhaps.
I'm reading it, and it's pretty heavy stuff. Heavy like a heavy metal (In the chemical sense), where it can do bad things if it gets too deeply ingrained in your system. I find I can identify with most of the characters. That is, I find it easier to fear that I identify with the characters' shortcomings.
I can, unfortunately find myself in Eva's listlessness and blazze disposition with most things, in her continual dissatisfaction with life's events, in truth, I even have replicated her 10th birthday myself, building things up to impossible heights and then being disappointed even with the grandest heights. I fear for winding up like her, perpetually cranky, always withholding some snide comment like an unrejected poison. But luckily, I can relish the moments where I can step outside both myself and herself and find myself different from her complaints, and think: Cripes lady, chillax! And in those moments, I am comforted by that it is, for the most part, just a book. That once the shine is off the apple, it need not be a death sentence that the whole thing will rot entirely in a matter of time.
I find I relate with Franklin as well, to some extent. BECAUSE I'M AMERICAN, OF COURSE! Nah, though perhaps that might have something to do with it. He's got what could be considered lofty ideals and tends to be more in love with ideas and concepts than reality per se. Which could line up with me here and there, I suppose. But man, he can be a real douchebag to Eva sometimes, it's like: "Franklin, I have deep dissatisfaction with my life." "Take those feelings Eva, and cram them deep, deep down, and then never mention them again." His selfish attitudes are something I would fear to find within myself.
Kevin? Meh. I suppose I haven't read quite enough about him. But really, I don't relate well with him, at all. I have, in the past, had this fear that I could secretly be a crazy person. Well, proper crazy, not like, "I love to eat onions with pomegranate juice, isn't that crazy?" kind of crazy. Which I suppose, is why I did and did not read this book. I avoided it in case they described Kevin as "Enjoying video games, going to church, writing in his blog, surfing facebook, and also secretly being Lorcan." Then we would have a problem on our hands. But I kept a stiff upper lip, and decided to take this book, and perhaps any demons that reside within it, head on.
To my relief, from birth, given Eva's description, she might as well be named Rosemary. I had been told by Nicole that the book keeps a relatively neutral stance between nature/nurture, but seriously, His hobbies at 2 include all but "cackling maniacly and praying to Lucifer, father of lies." Perhaps I am simply not far enough in, at 4, he does seem more to be something of just a problem child. But at any rate, it is all ahead of me.
And if I may boast, I did figure out one of the major twists after only a few chapters :P
Well opera, it's been a while. We need to talk. I don't think this is really working out. It's the little things, you know? You don't load random pages anymore. You used to, I don't know why you've stopped, but, I can't even browse TVtropes anymore for goodness' sake! I remember back when things were simple. But you've changed. Over the updates, you've kept changing how you look. You never needed to do that, I always thought your layout was beautiful, really. But now you've gone for some big, gaudy, "O" in strawberry red. I wished that this could work, but I think we both just want different things. I've realized that what's special about you isn't exactly you-exclusive. I remember loving your "speed dial" feature, how I could just click, and suddenly go where I needed to, but, Opera, it just isn't the same. I've discovered bookmarks. Histories, even.
I remember your adblocker. That was really the last gasp of my surfing with you. I really did love it. Just a click or two, and suddenly I didn't need to be distracted by racy images on the Internet. I felt safe. But it's all fallen apart, Opera, it's all fallen apart. You can't stop imvu, you can't even hold back Evony! Evony, Opera, listen to what I'm saying! I'm sorry opera. I've just moved on. There's someone else. She's got a fiery disposition. And I'll be honest, she is a bit of a fox. I'm sorry Opera, but I've got to be honest with you. Firefox means what she says. When she says no to an ad, she means it, it isn't back immediately, and she can even stop any ad like it. For good. She can randomize pages. I don't know why you can't, maybe you've got some issues to work through. True, she doesn't have your speed dial, but that's something I'll have to live with, each browser is different. There's a lot I don't know about her, there's room for growth past where we hit the glass ceiling. Goodbye, Opera. I'm sorry, but I really think this is what is best for both of us. I... I'll see you around. Perhaps there is room for growth in the future, but, right now, this really just isn't... Goodbye.
"A good memory is not so good as a little ink" - Chinese proverb (which I will now quote whenever someone hassles me about writing on my arms :P)
I think this is one of those things that is totally from the future that we take for granted in that regard. It's a little box that you put your cold, icy food into, press a few buttons with a "beep-beep-dee-boop", wait a minute or two, and suddenly your dish is appealing and steaming with heat. Once again, after some more satisfying beeping.
"I can repel a compliment with the best of them, karate blocking kind words back out into the atmosphere even as you try to share them about something I've done. But I treat the negative comments like P-Diddy at a night club. "Right this way sir. Here's the VIP section of my heart. Enjoy your stay." - "Prodigal Jon" - Stuff Christians Like
So I'm reading over the whole Lisbon treaty thang because I'm 18 now, and that means I can vote. But this treaty troubles me. Mostly because it is huge. It is like instead of asking you what you want for dinner tonight, setting out what you will be having for dinner for the next three years and seeing if you agree or not. It's like: "Oh, well, this means we'll have universal rights. Woo universal rights!" but then there's bits of: "So, workers' wages and immigration will be free reign as we see fit." And then it's not so woo.
And the explanations. THE EXPLANATIONS. I don't know who wrote these things. I don't know if there is an interesting way to get these things across. But man, they have about two flavours: "No citations whatsoever" Where they basically say "So, this thing is great, because of A, B, and C." But they could be offering me Free ice cream day on Wednesday every week and I wouldn't know if it was really on the treaty or not. This applies for the opposition as well where they say the same thing, only with "lame" instead of "great". The second flavor is effectively, the Lisbon treaty. They like, took out a few sentences here and there, but you are effectively reading a considerably-sized novel about the history of the entire freakin' thing. Yes, I understand it's been around for a while, but at this stage it's just a toddler slamming the square cube into the star-shaped hole in his toy box. And for some reason every human being who explains it is always a 60 year old man with thick-rimmed glasses, grey hair, and a voice that could cure insomnia worldwide.
At the end of the day, it doesn't really make a difference what they say, because either it'll work or it wont. Hitler didn't start his campaign bragging about all the bombs that would be dropped on people's houses, and the Civil rights movement never knew that it would soar to the election of a black president. I see all these signs saying: "Lisbon: FOR JOBS" and then four feet down the road saying: "Lisbon: AGAINST JOBS". I suppose the real question is "Do you trust the EU?" And that is a very tricky question indeed. I think they need to break it up, have us vote on "Li" "Sb" and "On", so that you don't end up having to simultaneously secure human rights and screw over your foreign policy with your one vote.
What they need is a youtube video made by two amateurs rapping about what Lisbon means in underneath three minutes. At least one of whom must be black as per youtube's unwritten rule for all comedy groups.
"I'm not one to make political statements........... ........ ........ ..... ." - Jonathan Coulton -The President Song
So, yesterday, I ran 4.4 miles. Wait, that sounds like I'm bragging. Wait, I think it is. But I'm not going to use the backspace key because it's more expressive that way. Is it? Dear God, here we go again. I just took the Lord's name in vain. Shouldn't do that. So I've been studying for about 2 hours a day now because it's sixth year and. Wait. No. I'm trying to learn how to do english thingamajigs properly, so we're going to start over. That's right. This is 22/5 take two.
I'm trying to be more coherent in my blog posts as of late. I've heard that my blogs can be very difficult to understand and a little too rambly, which has put friends of mine off of reading it. Which makes sense to me. So I shall forgo the undistilled spewing forth of my thoughts like thick, black, crude oil, and try to create some fuel which is more useful, some food for thought that can be digested. So, calmly, I'm gonna try to go through one thought. This thought will be written about running 4.4 miles, but really it's going to be about a little more than that.
So, as I testified on Facebook some weeks ago, I had ran the 2.2 mile run our school offers during cross country periods. I had ran it without stopping to walk. And I was "Pretty well chuffed". This week, we were given the option to run it twice, and I decided to go for it. Lately, I have been trying to be more healthy as of late. I bike about 6/7 days a week for about 15 minutes, and as the fellow junior he-leaders of the 10-12's camp will testify to, I have been doing weights as well. As my friend Michael so eloquently put it: "You know what Lorcan? Being healthy is overrated. You're just going to live a lot longer, and then we're all going to die. And then you'll just be alive, and it'll be lame." I do love Mike! Being fit has always really been a bit of a bit of a point of contention for me.
Mostly for body image reasons. Which is something that guys aren't that well renowned for dealing with, but there you go. Ironically, not that I have problems with looking unfit. Indeed, I'm quite comfortable at leisure with what I have described as my "noodle arms". Some of the happiest periods of my life have taken place when I am incapable of doing more than one pull-up. I find it easy to have no problems with my appearance at my leisure when I am not making an effort. Because I really, truly believe the human body is a beautiful thing all by itself.
I mean, really. We are the most beautiful machines that we have ever known. Thinking about it, we are capable of so many, many things. Allow me to set a baseline. The baseline is the other 99.9999% of creation. Think pluto. Think barren, frigid nothingness in which not even bacteria can survive. Our bodies are absolutely saturated with muscles, able to move and curl, bend and twist, and what's more, exert a force on this world. Our bodies are so insanely complex that it takes years and years and years and years of study to really understand them. We have a system to take in energy to keep us going, a system to let us feel pain and receive feedback from our surroundings, a system to think and keep thinking and think about thinking and the past, present and future. I could go on and on and on, but I won't. I suppose I find us pretty darn impressive, is all.
The problem arises when tension comes into the equation. At total rest, I have no problem concentrating on this facet of our beauty in complexity. But when one starts trying to improve upon oneself, to try and put some ornaments on one's temple, it can get rather consuming. The trouble is the up and down. As one notices bodily improvements, it is natural to rejoice. But once you seek the ups, one can't help but notice the downs. Sure, you've lost weight, but what about that face? Sure, there's been an increase in muscle mass, but what about that stomach? It's always been a problem for me. In years past, I've just given up, because I don't like grey. I much prefer black or white. All-consuming Ferver, or total apathy. But now, I am trying to do what Rob Bell would describe as: "Living in the tension". Briefly explained, this means that instead of sitting in one camp or another, you do the harder, healthier part and try to seek balance rather than comfort. And that's what I'm trying to do. And you're all invited to the gun show! (Please note, if I am to ever go *BAM!* while putting on display any part of my body, it is my wish, being of sound mind and body that I am to be instantly brought to, and disposed of, in the nearest incinerator.)
So I've completely forgotten what I was going to say about running. Probably something about how nifty it is or something, I can't even remember. And no, I haven't forgotten that I'm supposed to finish my post about camp, I'm just choosing to deliberately ignore it!
"There's Luke, consuming American soil!" - Mantage.
Yeah, I'm running out of titles for these things. Whew! First week of 6th year finished. Dear Lord, it was tiring. I think it's just a matter of me getting back into "Not playing TF2 all day" mode, but holy CRAP, I've never been busier! It was a pretty stressful week, not gonna lie. But in a side note, try asking your friends to pray for you when times are tough, it actually helps! That sounds kinda obvious, but seriously, I asked a friend to pray for me during this week and it's actually made a huge difference in my day-to-day stress and stuff! Our God is an awesome God indeed.
I've taken to writing on my arms, dear Nicoley got me a nifty rub-on to-do list which I used this week in lieu of a homework journal. The trouble with it was, you couldn't rub things off the list once you had written them down due to the adhesive's effect on your skin, so I'm thinking of re-writing it with things to do that I'll never really finish ie: "Lorcan's to-do list: Pray for . Relax! God is with you. Don't worry or be afraid. Work hard, it'll pay off. . ." And the like. I actually have taken to writing down the first initials of people I try to pray for, it actually helps! Especially in times like these, with fear of swine flu, I'm looking at my wrists every other second with all the hand sanitizing that's going on.
Christian Union's going to be starting off in October. Yikes and not yikes, in some respects. Me and Nicoley are going to be running the asylum, which is actually pretty cool, but also a fair bit of responsibility. I tend to like some responsibility these days though. (Some). We've got most ideas sorted and whatnot so we're doing as little extra work as possible, it being 6th year and all. Still yet to settle on a day that suits most people and especially teachers. And CU leader's weekend away is happening in Ovoca next week, so that'll be pretty rad as well.
I'm heading over to Nexus' for this weekend, which is going to be fun! It's going to be Me, Phil, Damian, Jane, and Cat. So that's pretty rad. Holy crapola though, busy schedules, people! I think I am saying "pretty rad" too much. I am trying to improve my grammar, if only for the sake of my English grade this year. But it is trying work, like growing pains or kneading dough. All the same, Phil's should be good craic, with Metal gear solid 4 aplenty, friends, and, uh... Metal gear solid 4 aplenty!
Team fortress 2 has become a veritable touchstone of calmness for me, of late. I haven't actually played it this week though. Me, Mike, Damian, and Phil all have accounts on it now, after much request on my part, akin to Nicoley's hijacking of four friends to start blogs. But also akin to said hijacking, this has turned out well, we get together, join a team, lag out, backstab, yell, shoot, yell, and blast our way to victory and good times for all. I feel I am starting to develop a real sense of brotherhood with these 3 guys. A real, encouraging, and strong friendship, and that is really great for me. We occasionally half-joke about moving in together from time to time, which would be pretty rad were such a thing to actually develop, "Blue like Jazz" Style. We'd all be friends, then enemies, then hate each other, and then we'd all be closer than brothers by the end of it. Do I smell sitcom?
"Hooked into Machine/ Hooked into Machine/ Hooked into Machine/ I'm hooked into/ hooked into Machine." -Regina Spektor "Machine" (I've had it stuck in my head the past two days.)
Also, I am kinda getting into listening to the occasional bit of worship music. I have some German stuff, which makes me laugh and smile to myself because the only things I can understand are "Danke" and "Jesus".
Recently, I got two flat tires two days in a row on two different bikes. Pain in the face, I'll tell you what. The first day, actually, resulted in quite a beautiful walk home, I walked in the softest rains, and through blurried glasses I saw two rainbows, the illusion ending only metres in front of me, the end of the rainbow within my grasp. I saw red blackberries ripening and wondered at patience, ran my hand over softly tickling leaves. People usually say I look depressed when I am merely thinking, but at this time, I wore a smile as I marveled at natures wonders. And I also shared a warm smile with a businessman in a fancy suit. So that was pretty sweet.
Today, I had to fix the two of them. New bike, and the Bonerattler, my mom's old bike, with no shocks. This was kinda tricky. Bicycle repair is one of those skills that I do so rarely that I must always work to recall it, yet frequent enough for me to still retain a sizable proportion of the information. It felt like what it was; maintenance. Like massaging a sore leg or trimming a beard, I felt like I was taking care of a part of myself. I think me trying to repair my bike is kind of like God repairing me. It takes a good bit of time to fix any one problem, and it'll eventually run into problems again, and it's ultimate physical end is death by wearing away, but with work, and in time, it can be a wonderful tool for it's purposes. I didn't mean to end the blog on a serious note, so I won't!
Phrases I thought or said while fixing the bike:
Gorram Bikes. You stupid, stupid bike! What's wrong? What's the matter? Blasted Vulcanization. Mr. Snail, did you eat my washer?
I find talking to whatever you're trying to fix is very good for maintaining patience. Turns out, the snail did eat my washer, the blasted thing crawled right over it, and when I picked him up, there it was attached to his slimy underside. Pretty interesting stuff. I set him down outside to let him on his merry way, and then accidentally stepped on him as I left the garage. It's a strange thing to accidentally end something's life. I mean, I'm not shedding any tears over it, but it's just uncanny that you can end something's existance without even noticing it, except perhaps for a helpless crunch beneath your feet.
Hello, my name is Lorcan. This is my blog where I talk about stuff I've done, stuff I think, and stuff in general.
Read it if you really want to know what I'm like.
And leave comments! They let me know what people think about stuff, adding to the total sum of my knowledge about things.