Day 1 of Responsible Living

Today I learned that petting the Roomba makes the cat very jealous. Also, in addition to its well-known ability to clean? Excellent spooner.

It's been a lonely few months.

The American Dream

It was halfway through my workday when the lights started flashing. I looked up and started grinning as sirens blared and orange-jerseyed men frantically motioned us toward the exits. An honest-to-goodness fire! I jumped up out of my desk and happy thoughts started to flood my mind. Maybe I can see the outside world again! Maybe I can taste breakfast again! Maybe I can find true love! They led us into the hallway where we stood and waited for ten minutes before someone came out and informed us that we had finished our fire drill.
After I had some time to digest what had happened, I came away with two things:

1) It's probably not good that the only other time this year I was so excited for something was when my co-worker came down with the swine flu. (Seriously? Three days off? Can he just breathe on me? Or do I have to eat his doo?)

2) Our fire escape plan was to stand in the hallway for 10 minutes. On the tenth floor. Last year we went down three flights of stairs to the seventh floor where we walked around for thirty minutes because we were locked in the staircase.

I am living the American dream.

Apathy

A friend pointed me to chinasmack.com today. It was alternatingly hilarious, horrifying and gut-wrenching, sometimes all at the same time. "Guangzhou kung fu master fights young man on bus" felt like a title that belonged on The Onion."US gymnast Shawn Johnson got fat- shocks Chinese!" was a sad statement on society. But the parts that tore me up were the testimonials.

Reading through the pages, you discover stories of desperation, heartache and apathy. One girl's dream was to become a concubine for an American businessman. Another tried to throw herself in front of an expensive-looking car to feed her family. A college graduate sold his organs to the Chinese Red Cross to pay for a better life. You get the sense that these are sweet people who know the right answers by heart, but who slowly come to realize that their world is asking different questions. So they work hard, hard, and harder, getting their fingertips on the edge of happiness.

And then they die.

What are we doing?

Gratitude

I guess this is how new chapters are supposed to start, right?

Thank God for the past, the present, and the still to come.

Beauty in the Broken

I've been marooned on a desert island in Sacramento for the last few weeks and I'm down to my last drop of water. Panoramic pictures have been taken, dear friends have departed, and the world has forgotten me. There's almost nothing left but me and Jesus.

And I've never felt less alone.

Praise God.

Seriously? My unconscious chose this?

I just woke up from a dream where my entire work group was singing and dancing the theme song from "Rocky", stomp style.
I really do need to get out more.

Three things I'm grateful for:
1. Electric razor
2. The sunrise
3. Morning devos

Three burning questions

1. If home is where the heart is, why does it feel so far away? And who the heck would want to steal a living, beating heart? Gross.
2. Why does my co-worker bring two purses to work- one tiny one to put under her desk, and another huge one (seriously. HUGE.) to fill with the girliest things she can find before splaying it over my desk while I wait patiently for half the day to see if she'll figure out that her package of "female toiletries" is touching the edge of my keyboard?
3. Why hasn't my modeling career taken off yet?

Three things I'm grateful for:
1. Bodysurfing in God's great ocean
2. ROLCC
3. God's everlasting mercy (forever and ever and ever it is wonderful)

some hearts are set on time delay

With my dislocated finger, I've had ample time to do three things:

1. Pray
2. Write music
3. Wonder why my heart feels more broken than my pinky

Some days, when I'm feeling up to it, I can do all three at the same time.

Three things I'm grateful for:
1. Vicodin
2. Radiohead
3. Psalm 43

City of Angels

As many of you know, I went down to LA with Wayne this weekend to attend Alice and Kevin's wedding. It was a romantic ceremony followed by a cozy little reception, with bubbles blowing on the newlyweds as family and friends sent them down the stairs into the white, sparkling Camry, ready to drive off into the mountains for the next step of marital bliss. A perfect ending to a perfect wedding.

Then, about thirty seconds later, an LAPD squad car and ambulance rushed after them, sirens blaring.

I'd like to say we were surprised, but we all knew it was really only a matter of time.

(Just kidding! We're 90% sure it was a coincidence! Congratulations on your recent wedding!)

In other news, I'm sure many of you have heard about me dislocating my finger after church on Sunday. In an effort to set things straight, I've made a timeline on the TRUTH of the incident.

11:15 A.M. I enter the Garden's basketball court despite pleas from Wayne to talk to old friends we have not seen in years. I disregard him. Catching up is for old women and sissies. Wayne and Yip are a combination of the two.

11:20 A.M. After minutes of shooting around, I set up 2-on-2 with two 8th graders and Korean man named Herman. Strong feeling God will punish me for jokes playing inside my head.

11:21 A.M. Herman asks me to shoot for ball. I step behind the arc, set up, let fly. Airball three. I shrug it off like I have not played in several years while in fact I had been practicing the last few weeks for this moment. Sinking feeling in stomach.

11:22 A.M. Herman sends behind back pass to opposing 8th grader, who converts layup. My 8th grader watches on. Score: 0-1.

11:23 A.M. Herman nails quick layup. My 8th grader has moved from three point line to outer edges of key. Strongly suspect he has some form of early onset arthritis. Score: 0-2.

11:24 A.M. Rona pokes head in and screams, "JON! WE NEED TO GO GET LUNCH! WAYNE NEEDS TO GET BACK!"

"Four more points!" I reply.

"NOW!" Rona commands, urgently.

"Okay! Next point wins!" I say, in compromise. After some hesitation, Herman agrees as well.

11:25 A.M. After inbound pass, Herman sets up for shot. I jump and get piece of ball. Feel a cramp in pinky finger. Something is wrong.

11:26 A.M. Herman turns white. I look down at hand. Left pinky finger extends past knuckle, then bends backward in C shape. Feels crunchy. Something is definitely wrong.

11:28 A.M. Herman apologizes profusely and brings me to cafeteria. The doctor tells me to go to ER.

11:38 A.M. Fellow church-going nurse splints pinky and ring finger on used popsticle sticks with clever puns printed on sides.

11:50 A.M. Leave Garden Community Church for Northridge Hospital. Optimistic that L.A. traffic is not so bad on weekends and will allow us to make trip in fifteen minutes.

12:30 P.M. Arrive at Northridge Hospital. Cannot feel finger.

12:35 P.M. Register at front desk with Wayne. At most, two people ahead of me in the ER. Easy peasy.

1:00 P.M. Rona, Simon and Yip come back with Vietnamese sandwiches. Ice Harvest, starring John Cusack, begins playing on ceiling TV.

1:45 P.M. Finish sandwich. Finger is throbbing. Line has not moved in literally an hour.

2:30 P.M. Nurse calls my name as I leap up eagerly, ready to receive treatment.

2:35 P.M. Led to a room with a bed and sheets. They take my temperature and leave.

2:45 P.M. Getting restless.

2:55 P.M. Finish reading legal fine print and instructions for use of tongue depressor. Beginning to grow desperate.

3:00 P.M. Nurse comes and leads me to X-ray machine. Proceeds to ask me to bend finger backward so machine get better angle. Hold for five minutes so nurse can ask technician for help. Exquisite pain.

3:08 P.M. Back in room. Waiting.

3:15 P.M. P.A. enters room with optimistic results of double joint dislocation. Describes treatment of condition with sound effects and sharp wrist movements. Laughs maniacally when I ask if I can get lidocaine then grows somber when she realizes I am crying. L.A. is seriously living up to its reputation. She leaves the room.

3:45 P.M. Enter Rona. Encourages me with words like, "SAUSAGE FINGER" and "PICK YOUR NOSE FOR ME, JON. NOW." I take what I can get.

4:00 P.M. Nurse comes in and tells me to relax. She feels around for the dislocations and, with a quick motion, pops the two back in place. Agony. A single tear falls from my right eye. Rona calls me a p*ssy. Nurse splints finger and exits.

4:10 P.M. Begin scintillating conversation with Rona about liberal arts and our choice to major in the field.

4:23 P.M. Conversation topic moves on to mental illness.

4:30 P.M. Wayne makes a quick cameo and stares blankly as Rona and I recite puns. Exits quickly.

4:40 P.M. Begin to suspect hospital has forgotten I am here. Rona voices similar concern.

4:50 P.M. Technician pulls up to door with wheelchair. Asks if I have a broken ankle or knee issues. Feel guilty, but ultimately decide not to say anything. Try not to move legs. Affect expression of generic pain. He wheels me to X-Ray room. Looks a bit betrayed as I stand up to put my finger on the X-Ray bed.

5:15 P.M. Quiet ride back to room. Technician leaves, wordlessly.

5:20 P.M. Jon Yip enters room and Rona leaves to be with Simon in waiting room.

5:22 P.M. Awkward silence. Male bonding is occurring.

5:23 P.M. Yip wonders aloud what is taking so long. Has a theory that the nurse actually discharged me and that I had simply forgotten. Sticks head out of room, then begrudgingly walks back in and takes a seat.

5:25 P.M. Awkwardness growing.

5:26 P.M. Take a quick jaunt outside and ask my nurse for an ETA. She replies that she'll be there in a minute.

5:30 P.M. Nurse comes in with discharge forms and prescription for Motrin and Vicodin. Yip and I leave through the back door and meet with the rest of the gang outside.

I think the moral of the story is: No good can come out of L.A.

Three things I am grateful for:

1. Old friends

2. Jon Yip's spacious and accommodating house

3. God's gift of fellowship with brothers and sisters in Christ

Blessed be Your Name

It's amazing how quickly things turn from wrong to right, from rain to day, from dark to light.

But then again, God has always been good, hasn't He?

In other news, one of my friends thought I was dead because he hadn't seen or heard from me in a while. Another dozen forgot what I looked like and refused to allow me to shake their hands.

It's called a fifty hour work week. And the claw-like fingers are the usual symptoms of early onset carpal tunnel. Completely normal. Get with the program, people.

Three things I'm grateful for today:

1. Overtime pay

2. Jason and Victor

3. Romans 8:18