I desperately need to clean my apartment. It has been at least a month since I’ve done so, which means that the dishwasher is full of dirty dishes…and so is the sink. There’s a pot on the stove that wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher or the sink. The laundry is overflowing the two laundry baskets, and is sporadically taking up floor space around the apartment as well. The kitchen counter is covered with mail from the last month and all the random other things I’ve brought in from my car since it was last cleared. My desk, which I haven’t used in forever, is covered, too, from all of the stuff that made it past the kitchen counter, but not quite to where it belongs.

Except that none of that is true.

For the last month, my apartment has been clean…like visitor-ready clean. At most, all I have to do is vacuum and dust a little. For that matter, my car is pretty clean, too, with just a couple of random things that shouldn’t be in there. My desk at work, ever since I dismantled part of it and redecorated over a month ago, has been clean as well.

I’m really not quite sure how this happened, but I’ve become someone who picks up after himself, doing his dishes as he goes, making sure that everything that goes into the car comes back out, and making sure my desk is ready for actual work, should it ever come. (; And I’m even enjoying it being that way. I mean, I’ve always enjoyed a clean apartment– it is great to come home to– but I’ve never been one to make sure it stays that way. Perhaps this is a sign of me maturing, or, in a small way, preparing to marry and live with someone who would probably would find me more pleasant to live with if I weren’t so messy. Who knows?

I remember sitting in the back of Curtis’ white Oldsmobile Cutlass, driving to and from Wal-mart. Directly behind me was a bookshelf speaker, wedged between the back windshield and the carpeted panel behind the back seat, and connected, somehow, to the car’s stereo. I had just met Curtis a few hours ago at Drury’s Orientation Night. It was my, and everyone’s, first night at college, away from home, and I was looking for something- anything- to do, when he asked if I wanted to hang out with him and a couple other people he knew. Not knowing anyone, I jumped at the opportunity.

It was in that car that I met someone else- Creed. Curtis had their new CD playing while the car-full of us were driving around Springfield. I wasn’t sure that I’d ever heard the band before, but the song we listened to most, “My Own Prison,” I found myself really liking. Though critics will tell you that their sound isn’t unique and their words aren’t inspiring, that song, and many of their later efforts, resonated with me.

My relationship with Creed lasted about as long as my friendship with Curtis, and was about as deep, too. Curtis and I didn’t hang out again, as we each kind of found our own groups, but still said hi to each other every time we passed. And I was never a super huge Creed fan who knew all their songs by heart, and whose favorite was a song no one else would recognize. I just liked their mainstream stuff. But as college ended and I moved back home, I didn’t hear from Curtis or Creed again.

Until yesterday. I was driving home while listening to the radio when I heard a song on the radio I instantly loved. I checked the lyrics on the internet and was surprised when the answer came back. The song was “Rain” by the band Creed. (YouTube | iTunes) I think I might have heard that they were getting back together, but never expected to hear anything from them again. Yet here they were, years later, still making sounds that are pleasant to my ear.

It makes me wonder…what is Curtis upto these days?

Last night, fed up with television programming, but looking for *something* to watch, I turned to Hulu and rediscovered a show that I haven’t seen in quite awhile, but really enjoyed when I was able to catch it.

30 Days(link) is an FX show hosted (or narrated) by Morgan Spurlock, the filmmaker who made the documentary Super Size Me (link). In Super Size Me, Spurlock documents 30 days of eating nothing but McDonalds. He eats there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, trying everything on their menu at least once.

In the television show, Spurlock narrates and provides framing for others’ journeys to spend 30 days doing something they aren’t used to, are decidedly against, or know nothing about. For instance, last night one of the episodes I watched was about a woman who believed that gay and lesbian couples should not be allowed to adopt children. On the show, she had to spend 30 days living with a gay couple who had four adopted children, attend a few meetings for children who have homosexual parents, who are homosexual parents, and help out at a gay adoption rights advocacy group.

As I was looking at the list of episodes, reading their synopses, and as I watched two episodes, I wondered how I would do on a show like this. I think that the opportunity that the show affords people is a really good one- the chance to see the opposing side to something they believe in. In some cases, the participant walks away from the experience changed; in others, it only served to further convict them. In both scenarios, I feel it is a good thing.

I would like to experience that good thing. The thing is, though, that I’m not sure there is something with substance that I’m so against, or so far, that I can’t at least understand the other side of the coin. As a result, I feel like the experience wouldn’t be nearly as powerful for me as it is for the participants.

For those of you who happen to find this post (after me not posting in forever), what things are you this adamant or passionate about? Would you be willing to spend 30 days seeing the other viewpoint? Would the exercise be worth it?

I *love* driving. Having the windows down, shades on because there isn’t a cloud in the sky, great driving music blasting on the radio, singing along with friends, driving a little faster than I should, using traffic as my own set of cones to slalom around. There are few things better in the world than this.

I *hate* driving. Feeling my wheels spin when they shouldn’t be, or not spinning when they should be, windshield wipers not keeping up with what’s coming down, listening to traffic reports or no radio at all so I can concentrate, my body tense, rigid, my jaw clenched, too many cars. There aren’t many things I like less than this.

I can’t think of anything in my life where my enjoyment is as affected by environment as driving. Soccer I could play in any weather. Praying to and worshiping God I could do alone, in the midst of a hundred people who aren’t singing or aren’t even caring, or with a thousand other people as into it as I am. But driving, driving I have a love/hate relationship with. It is one of my favorite things in the world, something that relieves stress for me; and it is also one of my least favorite things in the world, adding all kinds of stress to my life. I wish the lows weren’t as low as they are, but then I wonder if the highs wouldn’t be as high, either.

Who’s with me for this ride? Where are your love/hate relationships?

As soon as he stepped around the defenseman and into the zone creating a two-on-two, people around me started yelling shoot. And T.J. Oshie could have. As soon as he got to the top of the circle and had a man screening Vancouver’s goalkeeper, the shouts around me became louder. “Shoot it!” And he could have. After he cut across the top of the crease and all that was left between him and a goal was the goalkeeper, the shouts were deafening: “SHOOT IT!” And he could have.

But he didn’t.

Oshie held on to the puck, outlasting the goalkeeper until all that he saw was the white net, open, awaiting his shot. And then, and only then, did Oshie shoot.

This is my fourth year as a season ticket holder for the St. Louis Blues. The first year, the Blues led the league in all the things you didn’t want to lead the league in: lowest attendance, worst home record, worst road record, everything. It was terrible. They were finding new ways to lose: scoring on your own goal while a delayed penalty on the other team had been called, having the puck rebound from the glass off the goalkeeper’s back and into the net (…in overtime), and two short-handed goals against in one power play.

Since then, things have gotten better, slowly, each year. I passed the time and the losses by counting moral victories and baby steps, watching the players drafted a couple years before mature, enjoying the unexpected surprises in players that wouldn’t have had a chance with other teams. Sometimes it was tough, but I was there almost every game, cheering on my team.

Now the Blues sit a single point out of a playoff spot. And it is still an uphill battle. The chances of them making it are still pretty low. But that patience, that not listening to the crowd but following the instincts, the plan, that waiting and waiting and waiting until the goal is plainly in sight, has paid off. These games ARE playoff games. The team lives or dies with every victory or every defeat. And it’s fun as hell to be a part of.

As the Blues management has said over and over, “We are going to follow the plan. We are going to follow the plan. We are going to follow the plan.” I am seeing, right now, that plan take off before my eyes.

(In case you want to see the goal I refer to above, you can find it on NHL’s site here.)

old.

There, I said it. Old. Old. Old. I can’t eat the same things I used to, at least not without ramifications. I can’t recover from injuries as quick as I used to; I feel the aches and pains of my activities far longer than before. My eyes aren’t as strong as they once were. My academic skills not as sharp. The change that bothers me the most though, is how big of a wuss I am.

When I was young, my mom once told me that I didn’t let minor illnesses slow me down. A mild cold would go unnoticed. A sore throat only noticed by a slightly raspy voice. She knew when I was really ill because only then would I complain about it.

Now, however, I complain at the slightest illness. If my nose starts to get stuffy, I’m done for the day. And forget about coming near me if my throat hurts; I’ll complain your ear off. Where I used to get awards in school for not missing a day, I now cannot get through a season without calling in sick.

Being sick sucks, now more than ever.

I don’t recall the last time I paper machéd. I remember making some recycled paper out of newspapers in about 6th grade, but I’m not sure if we ever paper machéd in grade school. I’m sure that I haven’t done it since. So when my boss came to me and told me that he would like me to head up a project to make a big paper maché high-heeled shoe for an event the hospital was putting on, I was curious, and a bit excited.

It isn’t always easy to walk in someone else’s shoes (in this case, a sculptor’s), but it is nearly always a learning experience. There is a lot of time spent figuring out how they do what they do, how much work goes into it, and how much knowledge and expertise it actually takes to do what they do. This project was not a simple one, but the learning process was extremely fun, and is definitely something I hope I can investigate in the future. Who knows, maybe I just stumbled upon my next hobby. (:

View more pics (as well as the process) after the jump.
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The other day, I finished reading Beverly Cleary’s Ralph S. Mouse (link). Despite the book being well under my reading comprehension level, as my sister was sure to let me know, I was super excited to get the chance to read it again. It was one of my favorite books as a kid, and reading it again brought back a lot of memories.

This isn’t the first time recently that I’ve purchased and read through a book that I used to love, and it won’t be the last, either. I have another book on my list that I will get to eventually, and am always running across others that I think about buying. It’s nice to go back to that place and time for a little while, when the most important thing in the world was seeing how Ralph was going to fix his motorcycle. Sure beats stressing about the economy. (;

So I ask, what were your favorite books as a kid? Do you still have them? When was the last time you picked them up and read them?

I’ve been thinking about this question abstractly for awhile but was unable to put it into actual words until last night. I’m really not sure why it took me so long to do so, quite honestly, but I’m glad that I finally have. It will allow me to better investigate the topic and hopefully, someday, come to some kind of personal closure on the issue.

In case you have no idea what I’m talking about with the question, basically, I’m asking if one can believe that something is right in (for this discussion, let’s say “all”) individual circumstances, but not necessarily the right thing when speaking of a population as a whole. For instance, can one believe that, say, contraception is always wrong between two people, but see the value of contraception for the population at large? Can one believe that abortion is always wrong on an individual basis, but feel differently when speaking about tens of millions of people?

I’m really looking for comments here. Usually I don’t specifically ask for them, but usually, at least hopefully, my thoughts are already (half) complete. This time, I’ve only just begun to think about whether there can be a difference between one’s micro- and macroethics and would love some more input on the topic. Thanks ahead of time.

I’ve been thinking for awhile about what I want to do with my 2009. And now that it is upon me, I figure I better make that decision. Recently, a couple of the 437 million people who read my internet ramblings told me that they find some worth in my posts. They might have been lying…but maybe, just maybe, they were telling the truth and I should be writing more. So here is my present to you, world (wide web), for 2009: more internet ramblings. I intend on posting 1,000 times this year cumulatively on soupmagazine and the following sites:

• ::Cletusyouth.net:: (click me)
  Cletusyouth.net is the site for St. Cletus’ youth group, where I volunteer a lot of my time. I blog once or twice a month on there about my spirituality, or about an event we’re doing, or occasionally something that is going on with the Catholic Church in general. Fortunately, I’m not the only one blogging. You can find a variety of different viewpoints from current Core members and some of our graduates.

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• Prayanewsong (click me)
  Prayanewsong is a new project I started a couple of weeks ago with a couple of friends. Here is what I said about it on the “about” page:

  This blog was born in response to three different things: my (chris’) love for Christian music and the effect that it has on my prayer life; a collection of Christian music to which I haven’t fully listened; and most of all, my desire and need to pray more often/deeply. Prayanewsong is an opportunity, first and foremost, for God to speak to me through each of the songs in my collection, and also to share what I have felt…

  Each weekday, my friends and I will reflect on a different song from one of our collections. The insight might be big and powerful or it might be small and simple. It will likely be different for each of us. Each day, we will have the opportunity to pray a new song.

  If you think you might be interested in joining me, I may be adding a person or two in the coming weeks. It’s a pretty serious commitment (20-30 minutes a day, five days a week), but in my experience thus far, it has been well worth it.

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  Subscribe to just my posts by: email | RSS

• ::Twitter:: (click me)
  And then there is Twitter. Twitter is a microblogging site. Basically, it answers the question, “What are you doing right now?” You won’t find anything revolutionary from me there, but you will be able to see what I’m upto at any given time. It’s more of the day-to-day stuff. Eventually, you’ll probably find this integrated into the sidebar where “Thinking Outloud” currently resides. In the meantime, check the page by clicking the link above or subscribe below. (Though, I have to question your stalker tendencies if you do subscribe.)

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So there you have it, world. You asked for it. (: