Currently Listening Signs of Life By Steven Curtis Chapman see related

I've been meaning to update for a few days now, but I was secretly hoping to get that fifteenth comment. Don't get me wrong: I'm thrilled with fourteen. Even though one was from my mother, one was from my cat, and one was from some strange combination of both my mother and the cat, which I'll grant are identities that are becoming increasingly hard to distinguish between. Still, you remember the last time I had fourteen comments? I do. I looked it up. It was June 24, 2005--over three years ago. I had twenty-one comments. I thought maybe I could take some cues from what I discussed in attempt to try to boost my comments on this post. I talked about the innovative uses I discovered for my cat, my parent's twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, tickets for the Stephenball championship (the "Stephen Train" derailed, in case you were wondering), and then I complained about people pestering me to update. I didn't know what I had. I had people beating down my door for me to post on Xanga. Now granted, seven of the twenty-one comments were from Jessica (one was even just to tell me that I had twenty comments), and eight were a fascinating conversation between Amanda and Kendra about me switching eyes with people, but hey, twenty-one comments is still twenty-one comments. Beggars can't be choosers.

Several of you shared my sentiment about the TRUE badge. I'm happy to announce that my comments extravaganza brought me to an astounding 68% progress. Now they're going to make me post more before they'll give me the other 32%. Which means I have to make thirty two more posts before I'm a TRUE member. Yeah right. There goes that dream. Right down the toilet. Just like my dream of hosting a game show. It's a cold, cruel world. So maybe I won't be a "Xangalebrity" as they call them. I did turn my RSS feed back on so I get footprints from people all around the globe again. That was a good morale boost. I guess I'm comfortable with the way things worked out.

We took our family vacation to Traverse City a few weeks ago, which was a good vacation, but strangely predictable. We basically did the same things we always do. My sister and I agreed that it could used some "mixing up."  But it was a good vacation nonetheless.

For starters, we went to Grande Traverse Mall. We usually walk around the mall looking at things we have no intention of buying. This year, I spent a lot of time in a bookstore getting yelled at for climbing on ladders to access books that are out of my reach. I guess those books are for twelve-foot tall people only. Also, it turns out you're not allowed to solve the sudoku puzzles in the books before you buy them. Fun fact.

The next day, we did our usual "hike the Sleeping Bear Dunes trail to Lake Michigan and back adventure." On the way there, I had the pleasure of enjoying my sister and father talking in Irish and Scottish accents the entire way there, while I tried to list off in my mind everywhere else on earth I'd rather be (hint: Ireland and Scotland were not on the list). Actually, I was too far behind them most of the time to hear them, usually because I was emptying the sand out of my shoes. When the trip was over, it took so long to empty the sand out of my shoe that we used it to play a game of "Pictionary." It was good exercise, though. I'd do it again. Except I'd probably bring sandles. And I might rethink the Pictionary joke.

The last day, we canoed down a river. This year, me, my father, and my sister got a canoe and towed my mother in a tube down a small river that I always forget the name of. It was kind of cool at first, but by the end I started thinking, "Wow...this would be even more awesome if I still felt like paddling." Maybe if there were Indians chasing us with spears, or if I was with Indiana Jones and we had to get the sacred Gem of Furriness across the border before we were cursed with eternal facial fuzz, or if Michael Moore was running behind me telling me about the new movie he was coming out with, then maybe I'd feel like paddling harder. As it was, my main incentive to keep going was to see if I could get my mother to collide with other tubers. No success.

We went home the next day. I listened to music and played "the alphabet game" with myself. It's a lot harder when you use the Greek alphabet.

It was good to get away with the family. My father and I will be revisiting Traverse City this weekend for the Cherry Festival. No doubt it will be good times.

So I saw one of those advertisements on the side of a website that told me I could see how good of a match I was with my true love. Now normally, I don't fall for these things, but this one looked legit. It even had a picture of a heart, and I think they used actual math (and something about the zodiac. I wasn't really paying attention). So I thought I'd see how accurate it really was.

Name: Steve
Birthday: April 30

Now came the tricky part. I had to make sure this thing was going to tell me the truth. So I thought it over and came up with my true love.

Name: Apple Pie

Now I had to come up with a birthday. Since I didn't really know, and Wikipedia wasn't specific enough, I based my reasoning on the fact that there is nothing more American than apple pie.

Birthday: July 4

The results are astoundingly accurate:

"Mostly an amorous and passionate combination." You have no idea.
"Their desires could explode into delightful pleasures." That about sums it up. And we're not even talking about adding ice cream yet.
"The sensitive Cancer woman can feel protected by the attentive and strong character of the Taurus man." Yeah, I wasn't sure about this. I'm not sure I would feel protected by someone who wanted to eat me. But I assume that food likes to be eaten. And if I enjoyed being eaten, I'd probably enjoy it even more if the person eating me was attentive and had strong character.
"Like all relationships, outside influences can determine whether or not this will stand the test of time." Outside influences include: cheesecake, chocolate x-treme blizzards from Dairy Queen, my cat's furriness, and whether or not I actually feel like apple pie today.

I think we're all impressed with the accuracy. And to think you probably doubted me.

That appropriately sums up my last few weeks. For those of you interested, I have started adding videos to my "video section" in response to the swarms of RSS feeders visiting my video blog. I have to keep the public happy. It's good to be loved.

Have an awesome day.

-Steve

Currently Listening Sahara By Clint Mansell see related

I know. I’m just as surprised as you that I’m posting again. I like to pretend that this is like my fan club, and I picture all of you sitting in a room listening to me talking. You’re all smiling, leaning in on the edge of your seats to hear what I’ll say next. You should really see yourselves. It’s a pretty comical mental picture.

Part of the reason I’m positing again so soon might be because these “Xanga Badges” things make me feel guilty. Apparently, the best Xanga users get these cool little badges on their site that say “TRUE” to indicate a true Xanga poster person. I checked my own status on becoming one of the few, the proud…I’m at 20%. I’ve been here three years, and I’m one-fifth of the way to becoming a true member. They tell me I need to “post more!” and “leave more comments!” to become a true member. So, before I posted this, I went around to all of the sites of people who subscribe to me and left a friendly comment, including the people who stopped using Xanga a long time ago but never got around to getting rid of their sites. So if you’re wondering why suddenly, out of the blue, you got a friendly comment from Steve telling you how fantastic you look today, now you know why. And because I want you guys to know that I care and that I read what you have to say. But that’s aside the point. Given my luck, though, they’ll keep raising the bar on how to become a true member. They’ll be like “upload more photos!” or “eat more celery!” or “make a background of you holding an instrument you can actually play!” I’ll probably be seventy-five by the time I’m actually a true member, and all of my grandkids will be like, “You still use the internet? Geez, you’re old. Want some celery, pops?” But I still plod along, posting this, my seventy-first post (get ready—there’s a big party coming on the seventy-fifth). You’d think that the way people are abandoning Xanga left and right, they’d have a badge that says “STILL HERE.” I think I’m well-qualified.

It’s not like I can ignore Xanga. I keep getting these friendly messages from people inviting me to their site, which they say have lots of really nice pictures. Somehow, though, all of their Xanga sites got shut down for abusing the terms of service. Go figure. I just got a message recently from someone named “twinkelmytoes.” That seemed awkward to me, so I looked up “twinkle” in the dictionary, and sure enough, it still means to shine with a flickering light. I can’t remember the last time I saw my own toes twinkle, and I’m not entirely sure how to make them do so on my own body, let alone hers. So she’ll have to find somebody else. It was still nice to get the friendly messages, though. Maybe she’s just trying to get a TRUE badge. I should send messages to my friends asking them to “twinkle” various body parts and see if that tips me over the edge on the true-meter.

So, what have I been up to? I’m glad you asked. I’ve found various ways to keep myself busy.

I’m learning to play the guitar. It only seemed right. I finally have the callouses on my fingertips, or “power-ups,” as I like to call them. I’m still not very good, but I’ve already written two songs. One is about how much I hate the guitar. The other is about my cat climbing in the guitar case. You really had to be there, though.

I’m teaching myself origami. It’s pretty basic right now, though. So far I’ve made a cat’s face, and…well, that’s about it. I’m discovering that it is neither one of my interests nor one of my talents. Amanda tried to teach how to make a “cootie-catcher” at one point last year, and that didn’t turn out too well either. It’s a good thing I wasn’t ever attacked by cooties, or I would have been in big trouble. But anyway…I’m hoping to at least progress up from making two folds and calling it good. The swan looks very nice, but I’m more interested in the kind of origami that moves when you pull on it right. With practice, I’ll be making dragons that actually eat people. I’d be getting on my nice side if I were you.

I’m writing a book. Yeah, it’s the same book I started four years ago. No, I haven’t gotten any farther with it. In fact, I’ve actually taken a bunch out. It’s like I’m working in reverse. In a few months, the book might not even exist anymore. Better read it while you can.

I’m learning the flute. But it’s been a terribly discouraging experience. Not to mention the fact that I used to make fun of the flutes endlessly with my tenor-sax brother Jake Fox. Now I’m a shame to the section, and I can’t even play the dang thing. Get this: for a high C, you have to continue to hold the instrument up to your mouth without using any hands! It’s like the whole instrument is a practical joke. I don’t know how anybody can play the thing. Let me tell you: my flute-joking days are over. Because I’m not messing with anybody who could be using witchcraft to hold a horn up to their mouths. It’s just not worth it.

I’m pranking my mother’s computer. You know that thing I told you I was going to do to Justin with the words on the screen? I did that to my mother instead. It was hilarious. She was all flapping her arms around saying “Oh no! What do I do?” (She’ll probably leave a comment saying she didn’t do that, but don’t listen to her). She’s also taken to watching episodes of Lost on the internet. So I conveniently arranged for the Microsoft Office paper clip to pop up during an episode and say things like, “It looks like you’re watching Lost! Would you like me to recommend a list of alternative activities you could be doing?” or “I think I’ve seen this episode. Would you like to know what happens?” and “I think Sawyer is attractive. Do you agree?” She almost saw the humor in it.

Well, I suppose this has gone on long enough. We’ll see if I can find anything to talk about next time. Of course, I didn’t really have anything to talk about this time, and I suppose it turned out all right. I’d better be careful, though. I wouldn’t want to get tagged.

Have a wonderful day, and you all look fantastic.

Currently Listening A Rush of Blood to the Head By Coldplay see related

All right, I'll be the first to admit that I'm a little overdue for a post (actually, I'm the third, but that's irrelevant). I know it's been five months since I've updated this, but hey, that is the longest time I've ever taken--so maybe instead of chastising me, a round of applause is actually in order. I mean, this is a new record! And I couldn't have done it without you guys! Well, yeah, actually I could've. In fact, it would have been easier without you. But that's also irrelevant. Let's see if I can sum up five months in one post.

I managed to finish up my Freshman year of college, although I'm afraid the 4.0 died a nasty and brutal death after my B- in Calculus II. But in my defense, Dr. Frey is pretty much the smartest man on the planet, so his tests are like "In two minutes, construct your own time machine. Use only objects found in your bag." And he goes through the material so fast that if you miss a day, you come back and hear, "Oh yeah, we learned Latin yesterday. All future lessons will be in that now." So, sure, my grade got Frey'd, but at least I survived the class, and now I can at least understand Calculus II, as well as tell people how they can build their own time machines. In Latin.

I managed to get A's in all of my other classes, including humanities (an art-appreciation class). As a class project, we took a field trip to the opera and saw The Barber of Seville. I dressed up in a tuxedo for the event, but I finished getting ready earlier than expected, so I decided to have dinner at the little campus restaurant called "The Hive." The great thing about the Hive is that they ask you for your name after the order and call you up with a microphone. So I got to give my name as "Bond, James Bond" and casually slip the money to the girl behind the cash register while looking the other direction (she played along, too). While waiting for my order, I stared at the people at the table next to me and wrote in a little black notebook. It looked like I was taking notes on their actions, but I was actually just drawing a picture of a cat falling in love with tuna. So I'd say the evening was a success. Oh, and the opera was decent, too.

I quickly learned that part of college is defending your property. I can't tell you how many times people would come in and take my oatmeal pies, and whenever I heard Dan Hess was coming over, I'd hide my cereal bars (I actually found a box of them under my bed while cleaning out for the summer. I wondered where those went. I just assumed he got to them). But the biggest surprise was the day my toothpaste went missing. I figured there were three possible solutions to this scenario:

1.) I had accidentally left it in the bathroom, and the bathroom maintenance people took it and locked in the room with all of their other spoils.
2.) It was Dan Hess because he has a history of taking my things.
3.) It was "Electra," the nickname I gave the girl who grades my calculus papers, because I have deemed her the scapegoat for all of my problems.

Upon further investigation, Dan Hess did not have it. I interrogated him myself with nothing but a shoehorn and a salmon in a tube sock. I figure it's got to be in the spoils closet, but I don't think even Indiana Jones could find it in there. Oh well. It's just toothpaste. If it had been my puppy slippers or Tennessee boxers, I might have been more passionate to find it.

After six years of being blind in my right eye, I finally had surgery to give me a new cornea. The surgery went great, but a mishap in the medication they gave me sent me to the hospital with extreme stomach pains and nausea. I bring this up because I want to warn all of you: if you ever need to go to ER, try to avoid the University of Michigan hospital. It's way too busy there. I sat in a bed in the hallway for five hours waiting for a doctor to see me...and they wouldn't even let me use a real restroom. I had to pee in this jar behind a small curtain in the middle of the hallway (and I've got performance issues without that kind of pressure)--not to mention the fact that going to the bathroom triggered vomiting. Once the doctors saw me, they ran every test they could think of, including an ultrasound (I thought maybe I was pregnant). Overall, it was not a pleasant experience (and I think my Nana would roll over in her grave if she saw the chop suey they gave me). But I'm feeling much better now, and the eye is still intact. I should be able to see perfectly out of it in a few months. I waited six years, right? So what's a few more months?

Other than that, not much has happened. So I'll fill this up with a couple lists. It's the only thing I really know how to do.

Things I did to keep myself entertained at college:

1.) In the lower lever of the student center, there's this little coffee shop called Vecinos, and they've set up a bunch of tables and chairs around it. Naturally, this is a popular spot for couples to hang out. A friend of mine and I went there and sat down at a table right across from a couple that appeared to be having a serious conversation. We had planned our arrival such that I was in the middle of an extravagant story when we sat down, and you could tell that the couple was trying to ignore us, but just couldn't help but listen in. So they're trying to have a serious discussion but keep hearing, "Ok, so by this point, feathers are going everywhere, and I've still got the jelly on my hands, right? So then my boss walks in with the goat, and I'm thinking 'what timing!', you know?" You could tell that they were dying to hear the beginning of the story but were too shy to ask. So my friend starts what sounds like it's going to be an interesting story ("Oh, did I ever tell you the story about my grandma and the humpback whale?"), and we just got up and left. Those poor people.

2.) Nate Smith, my R.A., and I dressed up like referees, created little yellow flags, then ran around throwing them at people, blowing our whistles, and calling random penalties on them as we saw fit. We basically went looking for couples. We made some great calls, like...

• Illegal use of hands
• Delay of hug
• Six-inch rule violation (that's a personal foul--fifteen inch penalty)
• Roughing the boyfriend
• Boring conversation topic
• Intentional ugliness (also a personal foul)

We also had a red flag so people could challenge. If they did, we stared at a wall for a minute and talked it over. I say we played it pretty fair. We actually found a whole bunch of couples in the chapel room, but the vast number of them in "cuddle-mode" intimidated us, and we high-tailed it out of there. It just goes to show that sometimes referees don't call everything they see.

3.) I like to fool around in PowerPoint, so I made myself a really nice Tennessee Volunteers desktop wallpaper. When Kyle Brenneman, who lived right across the hall from me, saw my amazing piece of artwork, he had the gumption to remark, "Oh, you should make me an Ohio State one." I spewed what I was drinking everywhere, but I ended up making him one. It actually looked pretty awesome, and he set it as his desktop wallpaper. A couple days later he figured out what I had done to it. If you looked really close, you could see the word "sucks" in the background. And the four pictures that were in the background? They were of the Ohio State quarterback fumbling, the quarterback getting sacked, the kicker having a field goal blocked, and the scoreboard from the Ohio State-Florida basketball national championship last year. It took him two days to find it. I thought it was pretty clever. He failed to see the humor in the situation.

4.) This year, we actually went Stephen Caroling on Steve's Birthday Eve (for those of you who completely forgot about the Twelve Days of Steve's Birthday and the entire holiday season, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves...and for those of you who made a Stephen Tree out of paper and random crafts, 25 Stephen Points to you). We went around Lawlor, the dorm I live in, and sang to different units. We sang classics like "The First Steve," "The Twelve Days of Steve's Birthday" (which we made up as we went along), and "Steve's Nuts Roasting on an Open Fire" (our biggest hit). We got candy/packing peanuts for our efforts, and I think we really helped spread some holiday cheer. People seemed delighted to see us. Or well, they...saw us...

Things I wanted to do at college:

1.) I had an empty bottle of prescription sleep aid medication. I wanted to fill it with Smarties, then down the whole bottle in the middle of class--just tip it up to my mouth and take them all at once, and make sure I gurgle while I eat them. When everybody looks at me funny, I'd just say, "It's ok...it's prescription." While giving it a second thought, I decided I'd rather not get suspended, so I opted out of this one.

2.) I wanted to get a burlap bag and write "Tricks" on the side, then carry around an actual bag of tricks with me wherever I went. I'd look suspicious all the time, and whenever anybody asked me what was in my bag of tricks, I'd pull out some cereal and hand it to them, then walk away conspicuously. Problem is, burlap bags are harder to find than you might think.

3.) Dr. Clevenger, my humanities teacher, frequently sent out what he called "love notes" to his humanities students, giving further information about subjects talked about in class as well as other stuff he wanted to share. The purpose was basically just to better our lives, and he always signed it "Love, Dr. C." I always wanted to write him a love note back, confession my adoration for the man and try to set up a meeting place where we could get to know each other better. I wisely chickened out, but I think Justin actually sent him something like that. He seems to implement all of the ideas that I wisely chicken out on.

4.) Every Tuesday, we had room checks. I always wanted to leave out a plate of cookies and a glass of milk for the room check people and wish them a Merry Tuesday. But I figured my dormmates and Dan Hess would get to them first.

5.) I had set up a PowerPoint presentation that looked exactly like the desktop wallpaper on our dorm computer. The plan was that when Justin clicked somewhere, it would go into a Mission: Impossible briefing sequence, and would give him this mission that would lead him to follow clues all over campus. I never actually found time to complete the thing, which was a huge disappointment to the cast of characters I had involved. But such is life.

6.) I wanted to walk around campus with my fly wide open for a day. Now, I'm not talking about just a little bit open, like "Oh, I think his fly might be open" kind of open. No, I mean like, if you bend down, you get a little show kind of open. That way, I'd be able to see who my real friends are by who tells me. Upon further investigation, most of the people I considered my friends admitted that they would not tell me. Jerks.

7.) I wanted to have a little bell to carry around and ring it whenever I had a minor accomplishment or small victory. That way, I could ring the little bell and announce to the whole student center "I remembered how to address an envelope!" then carry about my business. You know that you've all had that twinge of small pride and just wanted to shout that kind of stuff out to the world. I just wanted to take that thought to the next level. That way, I'd be able to shout things like, "I managed to get my hands dry with only one paper towel in the men's room!" (that's a big deal at the 'Ville) or "I was mature enough to not fill my empty medication bottles with candy!" I would totally use that bell all day.

8.) I wanted to rig a bottle of toothpaste to explode and then leave it in the bathroom. That'd get those thieving rascals back in a big-time hurry.

Well, that about does it. I hope it was worth the five month wait. I guess I'll be seeing you guys again in October. Just kidding (no, but seriously).

Oh, and I hope you guys like the new background. This is the first background that's not photoshopped to make it look like I did anything cool, like jumped off a waterfall or walked down a road in Nebraska. Yes, I actually walked down this road. No, I don't actually play the guitar. No, the world was not in black and white. Yes, amazingly, I am still single and completely available. No, the Tigers will not be winning the World Series this year. I hope that answers all of your questions.

Have a good one!

-Steve

Currently Listening Nothing Is Sound By Switchfoot see related

I have recently been coming to the realization that Xanga is quickly dropping out of the popularity polls. I've seen about three people leave Xanga in the past couple months, never to return. Come on, people, where's the dedication? All the cool people still have Xanga! I mean, even my cat has a Xanga site now, a discovery that made me realize the fruition that my mother's sense of humor has come to (not to mention possible lawsuits for ripping off my site name and referring to me as "furless wonder-boy." That dadgum cat. He's going to get a vigorous rub-down when I get back, so help me). Besides, if you leave Xanga, then you'll stop leaving me comments, and my self-esteem will go down. Nobody wants that.

So not much is happening here yet, except that classes have started. Here's what I'm taking this semester:

8:30 a.m., TR: Introduction to the Humanities. Don't get me wrong: I've got nothing against humanity. But somehow, learning about the harmonious blend of art, music, and dance doesn't really identify with any particular part of my life right now. Maybe in a few years, when the only job I can get will be playing guitar on a street corner, I'll be able to tell people how my harmonies speak to their soul. Until then, I feel like I should be taking classes that have a little more application to me...like...guitar lessons.

9:00 a.m., MWF: C++ Programming. Originally, I was expecting to have to take this class from an oriental woman (Dr. Fang...Fung? Fong? Feng Shui? I don't know how it goes) who speaks English in a way that mostly involves speaking Chinese in a way that makes it sound like she might be speaking English, from what I'm told. Now, I like my professors to speak English, particularly since I don't take notes in Chinese calligraphy. I was afraid that I would be sitting in the front row with Google translate up in front of me trying to figure out what in the world she just said ("Uh...Dr. Fing...was...was that...Korean?). So now I'm taking it from a really young guy (He's probably either still in high school or just got out of it. I'm guessing he might have an older brother in junior high) who's teaching the class for the first time. However, I've already developed some skills working at a terminal. Right now, I feel like I could hack into NASA with that thing. If it's anything like the movies, I'll be able to guess their password in only three tries.

11:00 a.m., MWF: Calculus II. As those of you who are stalking me are aware, I had a Calculus I with Dr. Braithwaite last semester, which was nice. I had a lot of fun, and things moved at a decently slow pace. In fact, if anyone ever needed a break, you could just raise your hand and ask him to tell a joke, and he'd do it without hesitating. This semester, I'm taking Calculus II with Dr. Frey, who taught my Beautiful Math Structures class last semester. This is pretty much the smartest man on the planet. At the rate this class is moving right now compared to Braithwaite's, I anticipate studying relativity by this Friday and I expect to actually be traveling through time somewhere around the end of next week. I suspect I may have already gone back in time and erased part of my memory for reasons that will eventually become clear to me. I seem to have forgotten numerous things from Calculus I and how to play the saxophone.

12:00 p.m., W: LaTeX. My first impression suggested that this would be a class on how to make rubber gloves, maybe so I could start up a clinic to do physicals for people. However, it's actually pronounced "Lay-teck," and it's a word processor for mathematics, like Microsoft Word, only better. When I first saw my professor for this class, I thought he was an eighteenth-century composer who invented time travel in his garage. Imagine Christopher Lloyd with green sunglasses and sneakers that look like they were made to cross the tundra of Greenland. I will be surprised if this man does not cause some sort of explosion before this semester is over.

2:00 p.m., MWF: Spiritual Formation. I like this class because we watch movie clips, and I've already convinced my professor to have a class party. My professor is a nice grandfatherly-type guy who seems like his tests would consist of memorizing John 11:35, knowing my colors, and being able to draw a circle. I'm hoping I'm not underprepared.

2:00 p.m., TR: English Composition and Writing. I've got a good feeling about this class. If I can write three pages about infinity and twenty pages about Flatterland, then I can write anything. This professor seems really nice too, so I'm expecting my papers to be about kittens and sunflowers. Maybe I'll be able to bust out some of my notes from my speech on cute, cuddly, adorable baby seals and get some brownie points with her. Knowing her, she might actually make me brownies, too.

So that's my schedule for the semester. It shouldn't be too bad.

That's about all that's going on right now. I haven't had a post this short in a while, so it should be a good breather. I hate to push myself too hard on a Monday. Have a lovely day!

-Steve

Currently Listening This Moment By Steven Curtis Chapman see related

Happy New Year, everyone. As we round the corner into 2008, I thought I'd start a little New Year's tradition: a New Year's Day post. Generally, as far as traditions go, I don't really have many. I mean, I eat breakfast in my boxers on the first day of Cross Country camp, and I'll watch A Muppet Christmas Carol every December with the family, but other than that, every day is like a fun surprise. Well, a surprise at least. I suppose "fun" is in the eye of the experiencer.

So here's what I'm going to try to do: New Year's Day, I make a special post of lists, since they're usually easy for me to do for some reason. You guys can give me ideas for what you think would make a good list all throughout the year, and I'll take the good ones and do them on New Year's Day. I've already gotten some for this year by popular request, but I'm not anticipating any real group participation for next year, so I might just make up my own every year. We'll see what happens. So without further ado, here comes the first post of 2008.

Best stories of 2007 that I never told you.

1.) My Nana, my mother's mother, is an amazing woman. She's also an amazingly hilarious woman, she just doesn't know it. Not only that, she's got an incredible faith like you wouldn't believe. I always tell people that she's got a direct connection to God, and here's why.

This past January, she had a doctor's appointment early in the morning. The problem is, my Nana doesn't have an alarm clock of any kind, so it would have been difficult to wake up on time. So my Nana, being the faithful woman that she is, decided to pray. She asked God to wake her up on time for her appointment. The next morning, she gets a phone call. She picks up and says "Hello?" and the voice on the other end says, "It's 7:04. It's time to get up!" Since that's somewhat of an awkward conversation starter, my Nana asks, "Who is this?"

No answer.

To this day, I tell people that an angel called my Nana and gave her a wake-up call. It's really too bad she doesn't have caller I.D. I could really use that number.

2.) After my last watch broke, my father got me a new one with all sorts of fancy new gizmos. The thing has three-alarms, stopwatch, timer, and this indiglo-sensitivity thing where all I have to do is flick my wrist and the thing lights up. It's also got an "occasion" mode where I can program special days into it, and it alerts me at 8:00 in the morning with a friendly/annoyingly irritating noise. Do-do-dee-DOO! Do-do-dee-DOO! Until I acknowledge it's existence. It's sort of like my cat when he's hungry in that regard. These nifty functions all seemed very fine and lovely.

The first week of August however, I started getting all these "occasion alerts" at 8:00 in the morning--every freaking day. So every morning I'd wake up to a sunrise that I didn't want to see and look at my watch, trying to think of what in the world I was trying to remind myself of. Little did I know that Kyle Drake had gotten a hold of my watch while I was tubing and he was still on the boat. He'd programmed the thing to go off every day that week. I didn't catch on, because that had happened almost two weeks earlier. He's clever like that.

That would have been a good thing to know every morning. I'd stare at the thing for half an hour thinking, "What? Anniversary? Whose anniversary?" I didn't catch on because, somehow, I'd come up with some bizzarre reason every day that almost made the alert make sense. "Birthday? It's nobody's birthday! Wait, Caleb's birthday is in four days. I must have just wanted to give myself a heads up." You'd think I would have figured things out by the time I was saying, "Oh, I must have wanted to remind myself that my parent's anniversary happened two months ago on this day," but it turns out I don't have the clearest mind at eight in the morning. Kyle confessed to his ploy when I saw him about a week later, and I've been baffled by his genius and evil tendencies every since.

3.) As you know, I pulled an outrageous stunt last year when I created a person named Mark Morlaix that fooled some of the people for some of the time. Justin retaliated with his stunt about the "magical printer" (but in my defense, I don't have the clearest mind at eight in the evening, either). Well, Jesse decided to get in on the action a little while ago when he decided to make up a disease. He said he had some sort of skin pigmentation thing where he was getting blacker, like a reverse Michael Jackson or something. Luckily, I didn't get this message at eight in the morning or evening, so I was able to rationally reason that no such disease actually exists. Unfortunately for the majority of the masses, they don't know Jesse's twisted streak as well as Kyle and I do. So they all found out by some means or another, and now Justin has sworn to find revenge again. I can't wait to see what he comes up with. A magical trash can, maybe?

4.) Near the end of our senior year, Kaitlin made a joke about her and her boyfriend D.J. getting married in June because then they could file for FAFSA and get their college tuition completely paid for. Naturally, I and my compadrés felt compelled to turn this into a full-blown rumor. Since the middle-school girls were infatuated with D.J., they had a natural gullibility that we could take advantage of. Kaitlin thought it was hilarious and played along, coming up with a date and place where D.J. proposed to her. It lasted almost two weeks before people figured out it was a hoax. We're a devious bunch.

5.) We had the Variety Show about a month ago, where Justin, Jessica, and I returned to join Adam Barsuhn in The Legend of Stevo, the final chapter in my Variety Show skits. Well, I was about to go onstage, dresses like Zorro and looking pretty freaking awesome, when I start getting that pre-stage jitters that make you think, "Wow, I really have to go to the bathroom." Pretty soon I'm imagining a scenario involving me wetting myself onstage, and I'm still not sure how I would cover for such a scenario. Anyway, I made it through the first performance and rushed to the bathroom, but the stall was full, so I went to the teacher's bathroom in the business office hall. I enjoyed my experience, but when I went to exit, the lock made a sound like "Ka-ching-king-dunk!" Normally, this isn't the sound I like to hear from locks on doors for rooms with no windows, but I didn't think much of it until the doorknob wouldn't turn. I jiggled it around for a few minutes, then messed with the lock for a few minutes, then jiggled the doorknob some more, thinking this was just God playing a practical joke on me. After ten minutes had passed, I had begun scavanging the room like MacGyver, looking for anything I could use to get out of this jam. "I'll use...a toothbrush! ...and...toilet paper...and...a twig from this plant!" There was a moment where I actually believed I was MacGyver, and I was going to escape using this items that I found. You can imagine my disappointment when I discovered that I am, in fact, not MacGyver. Once this unfortunate realization set in, I pushed out a ceiling tile and attempted to crawl through the ceiling to safety. To my dismay, there was a wall that extended through the ceiling all around the bathroom (seriously, why was that included as part of the construction for this building? Were they expecting people to try to infiltrate the bathroom through the ceiling?). After that plan died, I resorted to banging on the wall, shouting, "Help! Can anyone hear me?!" But of course, no one could hear me, because there was nobody in the hall and the show was still going. After forty minutes, my old history teacher, Mr. Barsuhn, happened to wander into the business office hallway. The conversation went something like this:

"Mr. Barsuhn! You've got to help me!"
"...Steve?"
"Yes! You've got to help me, I'm locked in the bathroom!"
"That's not possible."
"No, really, I am!"
"Just turn the lock, Steve."
"I am turning the lock!"
"Steve, I don't know if I've got a key to get you out of there."
"Then kick the door down! I've been in here for over half an hour!"

He eventually found a key and got me out, and I kissed the ground of freedom. It's a good thing, too...because I had to be in the second show, and I can just imagine everyone on stage going, "Man, where's Steve?" while I'm sitting in the corner counting down bottles of beer on the wall. I was actually reforming my life while I was in there. "If I ever get out of here, I'm going to tell my parents I love 'em."

For some reason, these kind of things only seem to happen to me.

The worst dreams I've ever had.

1.) I had a dream this past summer that my entire senior class was going on a bus trip somewhere. Unfortunately, our bus somehow wound up in a river (it might have had something to do with the fact that Jesse was actually driving the bus). Rather than try to escape the bus, the rest of my classmates decided that the logical thing to do was hold their breath and hope for the best. I guess they thought maybe all the water in the river would evaporate or something. And for some reason, they started holding their breath before water even starting coming into the bus. I, on the other hand, decided to get out of the bus, so I broke a window (to my own surprise) and swam up to the surface. It was a terrible dream, because I basically watched all of my friends drown, not because of terrible circumstances, but because they were idiots. It's hard to put a positive spin on something like that.

2.) I had a dream that I was actually Captain Bluebird. I had the bluebird costume and everything. I could even fly. But for some reason, I was hiding in my headquarters, which were in Mr. Barsuhn's basement. Mr. Barsuhn kept coming down, too, and I kept trying to keep him from discovering my true identity. You'd think the man would know about it if my headquarters were in his basement, but I guess up until this point, his basement had been a really good hiding place. My efforts were in vain, though, and once he discovered my identity, he said he was going to spread the word about it. Great. My history teacher just became my arch-nemesis. Not a good choice. Fortunately, I woke up before he could start petting his cat and making demands of the U.N. Unfortunately, I didn't wake up before he started cackling, and that's enough to keep anyone from sleeping for a good three weeks.

3.) It's called the "drama dream," and you usually get it before a big performance. It's a dream where everything goes wrong in the play, and I've generally had one for every performance I've been in. The one for my last fall play, Larceny and Old Lace, however, was the only one I've had that came after it was over. I dreamed that instead of coming out and saying my own lines, I actually started saying the lines for Justin's part, the part of a crazy guy who thinks he's a pirate. It's hard to recover from a mistake like that, but I think I said something to the extent of, "...that's what my uncle Charlie would say if he were here..." I guess it's good to know that I can cover for myself even in dreams.

4.) I had a dream last year that the administration decided to take the whole senior class on a field trip--to get vasectomies. While we were in the waiting room, Kyle started telling me about the disturbing procedure, using various props/tools he happened to find lying around. Let's just say I wasn't expecting the doctors to come in from the back side. I woke up once Kyle started chasing me around with the tools. I'm surprised at how many dreams involve me running away from Kyle.

5.) I had a dream that I was locked in a room with about twenty lawnmowers that were all alive and all trying to kill me. I was a kid at the time, so lawnmowers were pretty scary. I used that dream as an excuse for not mowing the lawn until I was seventeen.

The best dreams I've ever had.

1.) I had a dream not too long ago where I was solving a mystery. I don't remember exactly what it entailed, but I know that I was dressed like Sherlock Holmes and that my solution somehow involved me pouring a bottle of wine into a wooden bucket. Everyone around me acted as though this was a move of pure genius. "He put the wine in the bucket...brilliant!" The rest of the dream basically entailed of me doing random things and everyone else calling me brilliant. "He put the duck in the microwave...brilliant!" It was a great morale boost.

2.) This summer I had a dream that my sister and I were trapped on a giant boat made entirely of peppermint. The ship sank and we both drowned, but I kept going back in time and reliving it, each time trying something new in attempt to live. I never really did figure it out. I know it sounds like a nightmare, but any dream involving large amount of peppermint is a good dream in my book.

3.) Probably the best dream ever was one where I figured out I was dreaming early on in the dream. Normally, if I do figure out that I'm dreaming, it's right before I wake up, but not this time. This time, I discovered that not only was I dreaming, but that as the dreamer, I was omnipotent. I was running around, flying through air, causing explosions, making wild animals spontaneously generate, and throwing lightning bolts. The twist came when these giant plants appeared, and I had to sword fight them to save the non-omnipotent civilians in my dream. I know it sounds freaky, but there's a certain rush you get when you sword fight giant plants. Seriously, you should try it sometime.

Most annoying Facebook applications.

1.) Heroes - So you pick me up and throw me across the room, then want me to join your application? Sorry, but none of the hero superpowers really interest me. I just want mild superpowers, like being able to fix my hair by commanding it vocally, or being able to make change for a dollar by smacking it against my forehead. Flying is for losers. No offense.

2.) Moods - Not that there's anything wrong with letting people know how you feel...I just don't want to be alerted about it. I really don't need to know that "Alexis is feeling hungry" or "Jesse is now feeling drowsy." What may be more sad is that some of these people change that thing several times a day, as if we're all just sitting here waiting to see if their mood changes from "thirsty" to "quenched." I know I've been on the edge of my seat. The only way I can see this application being useful is if it tells me something like "Kyle Drake is not happy." Then I'll know I should lay low for the day, lest my dreams become reality.

3.) Perfect Match - Really? You found my perfect match? And all I have to do is join the application? How convenient! I'm afraid to join this one because heaven knows who they'll pair me with. I don't know if this thing takes gender or age into mind, and now that my old high school teachers and some of my college profs are getting Facebook, I can't imagine this application giving me good news. If one of my profs is my perfect match, I think ignorance just reached a new level of bliss.

4.) Any application that defines my identity - Usually they do it by telling me what kind of fruit I am or what character I am from the Gilmore Girls. If my color of eyes says something about my romantic style, then that is one massive stereotype that I should probably have heard before now. And if there's a character like me on the Gilmore Girls, I'm suing.

5.) Anything that requires me to attack other people - I could be a werewolf, a vampire, you name it. Once I decide to take a stand with all of the other people who chose "penguin" instead of "sea urchin," my goal simply becomes to get more people to avoid the terrible mistake of choosing the sea urchin side. Heaven knows what these creatures are fighting about, but if they're choosing sides, it must be for a battle of which I want absolutely no part.

____________________

Well, this post was pretty huge, so I'm going to call it a night. I assure you that it actually was New Year's Day when I started this. If any of you guys come up with a good idea for a list for next year, let me know; maybe this way we can all avoid some childish tagging game. I wish you all a Happy New Year, and may 2008 be as good for you as 2007 was for me. Take care!

-Steve