This is for the ladies.

To start your day off right, I'm going to post a picture of Volpsters in his dance attire.

The boys have devised a diabolical plan of dressing as much like 'dancers' as possible.  Up until this point they had avoided looking like every other jazz yahoo.  It started with the basketball shorts.  Kayren insisted they wear spandex.  Then came the infamous bicycle shorts.  But, somehow, this still wasn't enough.  Graded down on appearance, they decided to obey the rules - as ridiculously as possible.  Thus, this combination.

Everyone knows (or should know) that wife-beaters should never, ever, EVER be worn by anyone.  But, in the sake of tomfoolery, I'll forgive it.

So, I'm here in the CMC until rehearsals, and although I should be rewriting some French, I'm instead, writing a blog. Somewhere I like to imagine that someone finds what I have to say interesting.  Nikki appreciates it at least.

So, rehearsals last night went really, really well.  As it stands, I have the prestigious title of moving the table with Jacklyn.  It's a serious position, so don't you dare laugh.  The night before DV visited and he was like, "...it's like Growing Up With Children.  You're not going for that, right?"  So, basically, they have set out to rework the whole thing - 6 days before opening, mind you - but this was a wise choice because it is so much better.  Mr. Pace Monster is now a constant member, it's over the top where it needs to be and subtle where it needs to be, and it's entertaining, despite its material.  Overall, I'm enjoying myself so much more than I ever did when I did Almost Maine but perhaps that's became I'm not quite so neurotically awkward.  Or at least I'm not as shy as I was.

So yesterday was French Table, and I... didn't go.  Oh, how I could have kicked myself.  As Julian sat in that tiny class room, mummering sweet words in French that should have been directed to me, well, it kills me.  One girl announced in class that he would need a ride after each French table.  The girls jumped on this opportunity, and it should have been my opportunity.  So, you know where I was when my French-Canadian dream was not whispering sweet nothings across the table?  I was in a den of incense.

Explanation?

After ballet class we had gone to eat with two guys from our class.  Afterwards, the idea to go to their house was proposed.  I wasn't going to go, but I had somehow forgotten about French Table, and decided, why not?  Broaden my experiences or whatever.  So we walk through the door, and I am knocked out.  They are burning the strongest incense I have ever smelt, and in the smallest room possible.  As I gather my lungs, we sit down and look at some videos of stuff or something.  These incense fumes are wafting right on me, but Chris, being the genius of us two, took the recliner away from the incense.  Chris and I began to work on our Jazz homework.

After about 5 minutes, something happens.  I'm not going to say what, but I will give an overview of the conversation right after it happened.  For a little visualization, this would be what I looked like during the whole thing.

Chris: *looks at guy

Guy:  *looks at Chris*

Me:  *stares at Chris*

Chris:  *looks at Me*

Guy:  Is that not okay?

Chris: *looking at me*  No, no, that's fine...fine.

Guy:  *chuckles*  You're judging me, aren't you, Chris?

Me:  *stares at Chris*

Chris:  *looks at him, looks at me*  No, no...

Me:  *MEGA STARE AT CHRIS*

Chris:  *looks at me.*

- 2 Minutes Later -

Chris:  So yeah, I think I'm going to go study in the library now...concentration, and...stuff.

So we jetted out, and tried to clear our lungs of the incense, and then continued to write our Jazz papers in the sanctuary of the library.  Earlier in the day, Chris also managed to be prayed on.  

[Beginning of Religious Rant]

They were holding some function out on the lawn called 'Jesus Heals.'  To be honest, I usually shy away from these kind of things.  Oh, I believe it's message, I assure.  But, I find it more awkward for sinners than assuring, and although they could use a little awkwardness once in a while, I almost feel like its counterproductive. 

Also, if you are advertising Jesus in such a fashion, the prayer better be guaranteed to work.  For instance, say a sinner walks up and wants a prayer. It's possible that they have very little faith and in the prayer to begin with, (thus canceling everything anyway, unless it is absolutely God's will) and they are probably expecting a miracle.  It's generally well know that it takes a lot of prayer, patience, time and faith (in most instances, depends on the person and the strength of their belief and God's will) whereas a sinner may not grasp this concept.  If the prayer doesn't work, for lack of faith from the sinners part of whatever, then they feel a little disheartened as they tried, maybe just this once, to grasp an idea of God. 

Lack of prayers answered is one of the reasons people don't believe in God.  A great example comes to mind.  Once in high school, I sort of befriended this guy named Kevin.  Kevin was weird, a bit of a loner, and not too great smelling. I've always had a soft place for the 'outcasts' if you will, so I would talk to him.  Kevin didn't believe in God.  And here is why:

"When I was younger I would pray every night that God would turn me into an Anamorph.  And He never did it.  Eventually I gave up on God, and figured he didn't exist because I never turned into an Anamorph."

When people promote something such as 'Jesus Heals' people almost expect an immediate result.  And believe you me, I know that can happen.  But it takes faith, and when dealing with sinners who have little to none, the outcome is often grim.  And therefore the negative effect happens, and when they are not turned into an Anamorph, they tend to lose faith.

The moral of this is, YES God answers prayers, YES he can do it quickly, BUT it takes faith and it has to be God's will.  And this needs to be understood.  Is this a good idea?  I'm still trying to figure it out.  It's serving Jesus with love, which I adore; but all the same time it's forceful, and...I dunno.  I'm just tired of trying to think my feelings out.  Welcome to what goes on inside my head.


All in all, I'm sure God worked through them some, and who knows, maybe it did reach some people.  It's not up for me to decide if it's right or wrong in the end.

[End of Religious Rant]

So they prayed on Chris to heal his eye.  Twice.  Regardless of my views on this matter, I was very touched by their gesture, and all in all, it was very, very sweet.


On second thought, after just slamming my computer keys in my current rage against Chris, I somehow managed to freeze my computer in the process.  After crying, and having Chris talk me through restarting my computer as I had a nervous breakdown, I resume my writing, and I can firmly say that I hate Chris because he induces a great, great anger in me.  As I glare at him now, as he sits in the chair and watches Beatlejuice, not interested in the "boring" things I have to say, I am...
...actually thankful that I have him as my best friend.


There I said something nice about you; give me a cookie for the deed.


...no, seriously, I mean it.  The cookie part.
Okay, I mean the thankfulness part.  Too.


So, we're going to eat now, so I leave you a picture with this cat in a rocket or something.

-Me