exhortation

"Just keep doing whatever it is you think God is wanting you to do until you hear him telling you to do something else" - Dr. Larry Purcell

Thanks for the advice, doc!

You May Wonder What Will Happen Next

So, I have finally reached a decision about what I'm doing for the fall as to living arrangements and schooling. That decision is... I'm again confused. A phone call tomorrow may help. I will let you know (when I know).

Mean, Medium, Mode

Picking apart words for meaning makes one weary.
The dictionary and thesaurus are tools; not sacred writings.
Desperation makes you void—
Being void makes you desperate.
Sinking ships for love only agitate.
Those who will want to someday be free from deception.
Only truth can consciously separate the will and the divine.
Heresy.

Heresy?

Linguistics

I love how people make blanket statements, but then totally mean another thing in word and action. Example, people who say, I'm not a [insert ideology they're not: Marxist, Racist, Fascist], but I think [insert the typical ideological conclusion they claim not to be]. Okay, here's your chance to stereotype me.

I'm not a Maoist, but I...

This Summer is Already Dubbed: You're So Last Summer

I went shopping earlier this week to look for a new pair of kicks (a.k.a. shoes). Upon arrival at a number of stores, a weird phenomenon happened. At two completely different sporting goods stores (Champs Sports and Sports Authority), I was confused for an employee of the store. This in itself isn't that ironic of a occurrence, as it happens from time to time. Yet, the reactions of the man and woman who confused me for an employee were separate issues altogether. I was dressed professional casual, as I had just come from work (blue polo shirt with typical gold striped design, tan khaki pants, brown slip-on shoes). Both of the stores, however, implore a different type of outfit for their salespeople. They go with a jersey-looking top and dark trousers, neither of which I was currently wearing. At Sports Authority, the man looked to me to help him get a pair of shoes down from a high shelf. He asked, "Do you work here?" When I told him that I didn't, he still appeared to want some help. I was in a hurry, though, and it didn't cross my mind until later that he might have been seeking assistance from anyone who would have helped. So yeah, I had my work badge on that day too. But the funny thing is, my very particular Eau Gallie High School badge doesn't look like a badge those stores have for their workers. It has my picture on it, too, what kind of shoe store has their employees pictures on it? The lady at Champs was the funniest and most annoying of the two. She had the foresight to look at my badge and call me by name (that always annoyed me when I worked at in customer services jobs anyway): "Jeff, are these running shoes?" She repeated the question when I didn't bother to look. I didn't look at her because, well, we all know that I don't work there! The third time she questioned me, there was much more force behind her words. I looked at her this time. She again posed the question to me, again with more enthusiasm, as if she was frustrated with me. I looked at her puzzled, flabbergasted, and quite annoyed considering this was the second time this had happened that day. When I informed her I didn't work there, she looked at the real employee, looked back at me and shrugged her shoulders like it was an innocent mistake. This is the clincher though. She then directed the question to the Champs guy, but she gave me the dirtiest look. It was like she was saying "You're no help to me now," which I wasn't, but still, I was frustrated. She kept looking at me, just giving me dirty looks when I looked back at her. Plus, she was loud, yelling at her very undisciplined teenager, and talking complete crap the whole time. When I left the store, I gave her a dirty look back.

The End.

P.S. I only bought shirts that day.

This Is My Happiness

Allergies

I hate pollen. I hate smoke (and the fire in north Brevard). I hate feeling sick feelings. I hate it, hate it hate it.

My Hair (in fifty words or less)

I cut my hair the other day. This was the first time since the beginning of November. It was long. Well, long is a relative term, but it was long for me. In the process, I played with a lot of different styles. When I cut it, I did a makeshift mullet. These are the photos:



I hate putting gel in my hair. This is why. Although, I did look rather savvy.



After washing out the gunk (I actually used shaving cream) and tyring a fro.



The before picture, part one.



The before picture, part two.



The grossly-failed attempt at a mullet.



The back of my hair (funny, it looks the same as before).



Business up front, party in the back!



My hair filled up the sink.



The aftermath, part one (I like the behind the ear shot).



The aftermath, part two.