My Illustrious Goals In Life

My goals are as follows.

1: Die.
But dying is neither as morbid or as easy as it sounds. I may have a death wish but I am still a huge opponent of both suicide and gratuitous risks. Therefore death in my case can only come by either a fortunate accident or the typical process of decay -- pretty much the same gauntlet that every other living thing runs.

Not that I even really want to die, simply that cursory scrutiny indicates that it may make everything a lot less complicated. Until my stroke of luck, however, here's only hoping.

2: Work Only Under Inspiration.
Here I leave space for those all "great" things that you obsessive accomplishment addicts continually crave another fix of. The only difference is, if it ever happens to me, I, one, will still have lived a happy-go-lucky life, two, will have been brought nothing but joy by any processes of achieving, and, three, will not be all sweaty.

Let me let you in on a little secret. There are billions of people in the world. No matter how hard you work and how talented you are, there will always be a throng of people who have worked harder and are more talented plus luckier than you. You will work your ass off and still end up being mediocre. I, personally, would much rather enjoy my life and be mediocre. Which brings us to our next goal.

3: Be a Minimizer.
This essentially means to work as little as necessary to stay alive and comfortable. This is easier done than explained so I'll just do it and leave the curious professionals to their day jobs.

I toast those of you who worry about your future, your career, and your humanity -- you make the world go 'round. This is not to say I have no mission. I still love aid, worship, and spreading good news. What it means is this: I take life as it comes, multiple times, but I take off in the interim.

Did You Know That...

...whenever I am trying to put a label on a post, I have to cycle through all the letters of the alphabet to see which labels I already have, and which one(s) fit the post best? Because I don't have the faintest idea what my labels say, and I don't wanna create a whole new one for each post! Now THAT would be terrible! (FOR EXAMPLE: the post where i go on and on about how i choose labels for my posts) (OR: i still can't get over how cool this label thing is)
So here I go, Q, W, E, R.......

Love, Joe.



PS UPDATE
HEY. FDTP ROCKS. INTERNET IS SO CARNAL HERE. NOT TO MENTION FAR (the article above is a draft that I wrote before I left...hehe). AM LEARNING A LOT. 13 HOUR SHIFTS WILL DO THAT TO YOU. AM ALSO ENJOYING A LOT.
ONE THING I DON´T HAVE TIME TO DO IS GO THROUGH ALL THE RECENT COMMENTS AND EDIT THEM. I WILL AS SOON AS POSSIBLE BUT FOR NOW, IF THERE IS ANYTHING UNEDIFYING, FORGIVE ME, FORGIVE THEM, LOOK AWAY. AND TO YOU PEOPLE WHO ARE DOING THE WHOLE STAR WARS THING BELOW, ENOUGH OKAY. THANKS!

A Constant Adventure

I wish I could somehow show you all the marvelous wonders that are happening here at our new house out in the countryside. --One after the other like the plagues of Egypt... only... the opposite, wonder after wonder, day after day.

Well, it started with an ugly looking, pink trellis that is built over one of our courtyards (yes, we have courtyards). No colour coordination, just a random bright pink structure sticking out of the ground like a sore thumb covered with vines. Then the vines bloomed, and guess which colour the flowers were? An exact match. We began to realize that this place might have more surprises to it than immediately met the eye.

Every once in a while we will wake up in the morning and find that a new colour has burst out of the green chaos of plants and trees surrounding us, as one by one the dormant shubbery comes to life. Red has bloomed. Then a deep violet. Then orange sliced through the foliage. What will be next?

***

A rain storm. Blankets of rain dousing everything for miles around--including a few half naked guys running around the soccer field, screaming. The lightning couldn't scare us off! The thunder didn't dissuade us!

The hail did.

So we swept inside to regroup and a few hours later when we checked back outside, we were actually snowed in. Opening the door pushed back a swathe of hail that had piled up against it like a snowdrift. And everywhere, as far as you could see in the dark, the ground was covered with little glistening balls of ice. Think Mexico, desert, cactus! --Snow, freezing, ice! Pretty cool, huh? And it was still warm.

On further inspection, we found that, besides tons of ice cold... uh... ice... --besides that--our entire yard was peppered with millions of specks of random colours from the flower petals that the hail had taken to the ground with it. In every direction, a carpet of rainbows, a sparkling mosaic of splattered shreds of colour. Like a giant display of contemporary art, clashing hues haphazardly splashed onto a giant canvas by a Painter who knew exactly my tastes. And there was still plenty more colour in the trees for tomorrow!

The next night a another strange phenomena happened. Maybe it was just a time of year thing, like the June bug. Or maybe it was some kind of chain reaction from the storm that made the firefly larvae multiply and explode in number (the lightning that spawned the lightning bug). Now our yard is lit up from end to end with waves of flashing neon, yellow-green lights--literally like a massive Christmas tree. You've seen swarms of mosquitoes probably, maybe flies or gnats around your garbage. But have you ever seen literally hordes of lightning bugs?

We run through our soccer field like a city in the distance with a million tiny windows. The kids capture them by the hundreds and put them in jars all over the house. (They also found that if you squish one while his light is on, the light will stay on and you can rub it all over your clothes or on your face!)

I am enjoying this.

I wonder what will be next!

Love, Joe.

What's Cookin'

You know those times when a beautiful woman wakes you up on a morning of a weekend and hands you a menu that she made herself, with every imaginable breakfast delicacy on it? And she's like, this is to make it easier for you to let me make you breakfast! And you're like, whoa, no way! And so you select a few things: hmm, a French Omelet, some quesadillas, banana shake, ya some orange juice, and a few tomato slices. And some apple pie to finish it off.

Oh, no you don't? Oh never mind then.

Love, Joe.

Lucky Number

365
That makes 12 mes-iversaries.

June the Second. Again.

Lucky me.

Love, Joe.

Sex, Screaming and STEM: The Screaming

Part Three: The Screaming
And by screaming, I don't only mean the banal, guttural noises proceeding out of the mouths of one singer at a time, and concurrently hundreds in the audience. I mean the screaming by of the days, the screaming feeling inside when you woke up (or when the attendees finally went to bed) (joke), the screaming of the Word in your hearts as it pinpointed one person in the spotlight (and that person was you), and, well, the screaming of Big Mike as seven of us threw him into the pool.

Big Mike is an appropriately named 300 pounds of pure muscle and brawn. He has a quick smile and a huge love for the teens... that and a lot of mischief.
Late one night he snuck up behind a poor, innocent-looking Steve (STEM, yes), and threw him into the pool with no compunction. Well, we weren't going to let something like that go so easily, were we? Plus, who wouldn't want to use this perfectly good excuse for a bit of playful vengeance, right?

Fortunately, there were no less than seven of us with the same idea. Fortunately, Kenji and Jer were amongst the crowd, not to mention Jason Wells (who had the idea). Fortunately, Big Mike was only a few feet away from the edge of the pool.

Unfortunately, however, I reached him first.

Foolish.

Also unfortunately, my hair got tangled up in his fingers.

We wrestled with everything inside of us, nudging him inch by inch closer to the dark water. Men went flying in every direction, but still we persisted. Finally with one final heave, the ground disappeared beneath us and a writhing, heaving ball of half-naked men plunged into the deep.

And it was all caught on camera. Stay tuned for the Wordstock 4 DVD!

That was fun. If only Mike hadn't been wearing his cell phone.

***

Anyway, screaming does also have to do with the actual voices. Not that many of us actually had voices by the second day. Truth is though, it wasn't the screaming that knocked our voices out this time. It was the dreaded Wordstock flu. I caught it the day before the event, and, thank You, Jesus, lost it halfway through. Others were not so lucky. I pray for them.

The band members fared well though. Many of them have actual healing miracles to testify to, and no performance was directy affected by the dreaded flu. In fact, they did splendidly. Screaming on stage WAS one of the highlights of this Wordstock. And I found their secret!

The Zen Of Screaming.

This is an instructional video by a certain Melissa Cross on how to perfect your scream, without losing your voice. Not to throw names around here, but most of the screaming bands at Wordstock have used this at one time or another, as well as the famed PaperClassFire from Mexico City. I haven't personally seen it, but it comes highly recommended as far as any non-Family reference material would. If YOU too are interested in screaming YOUR guts out, while leaving your throat intact, try it.

Love, Joe.

Sex, Screaming and STEM: The Sex

Part Two: The Sex.

Wordstock 4.

In the daytime, I would be pointed out beautiful JTs that I should talk to, suggested that I choose their company over something else I really wanted to do, and as far as that went, He made it fun for me, and memorable, and so totally worth it. But let's not overlook a few other aspects of Wordstock 4.

After nightfall, that was when He went to work on His part of the deal. Goal Number Two, after doing everything in your power to help the JTs have fun, was this: have fun yourselves.

After the JTs went to bed every night, there were certain choices to make. There was usually a sports crowd and a dance crowd. Participation in either led to a completely different end, and the two didn't mix easily (at least not without a good shower).

Now, this may seem like an easy choice for any of you, and on the surface, yes. Any man in his right mind would choose skirts over sports any day... right? But there is just something about a well-lit indoor gym and a good team of worthy opponents that tugs at your ankles. After all, with some of the best basketball players in the Family finally within arms reach, one had to be able to hold his head up.

On the second night I said, no, forget it, I was going to stay in the non-sweaty section of the Wordstock property. Well, man proposes... and uh... even bigger men dispose of the plans of the littler ones. A giant weighing twice as much as me stormed through the doors, forgot the formality of cordially inviting me onto the court to play, picked me up, marched to the gym, and dumped me in a heap on the floor, no questions asked. I was going to play, and that was the end of it.

So I played. But I also found that by playing one or two games, then slipping out the back door to shower and change, you could satiate both groups of people, as well as both groups of inner cravings, and still have time for a snack or two before bed.

Fast dancing is inspiring. Either for musical interpretation (something which good songs heard by good listeners just seem to demand), or just to burn off some extra energy with a few well-placed twirls, there is simply nothing like it.

Slow dancing is a need. Human affection is something the body craves, and that's why slow dancing was invented. Without that factor, it will only puzzle you. For you who don't understand dancing (especially slow), this is the key factor you have missed. Touching other people and being touched in return is just as essential for your skin as a good cleaning, and even more essential to your mind than a good education. But then, music is what brings it all together. --You take away the beat and all you have is couples clinging to each other's backs, stepping on each other's toes, and wearing an endless, chanted, rutted circle into the floor.

But put all that together and you have the magic of dancing.

And that's what we had.

Some clever soul had come up with the brilliant idea to write each person's status on his/her bracelet, so that by the second night there were no questions and no worries. Still, I was grilled at least once: FD? Not on PS? Disease-free? Single, or with permission?

Only halfway serious, but really, these things are important, and I highly recommend making sure.

Of course, to most people, dancing has an end... and it isn't the dance floor. Let me take you there.

***

We leave the dance hall together. We have to pass through the gym first and it is dark and abandoned. We stumble over a chair but the exit is close enough and no bones are broken. My room is a short, hilly walk away, and we have plenty to talk about on the way there.
Providence had given me one roommate--a Team Leader. You see, Team Leaders are supposed to sleep in the cabins with their teams, so he never showed up.

I have put the two single beds together, and covered them with a large, billowy, white sheet, a soft blanket and plenty of pillows. The room is immaculate: it is always two people that mess up a room--one person by himself can keep it quite clean. I do have a stock of fruit on one of the shelves in case you get hungry. The rest is up to us.
I always forget the Do Not Disturb sign, but no one comes out here at 3:00 AM anyway. When our eyes close, we will sleep well. I hope I can say the same for our neighbours. I hope the walls are thick.

Love, Joe.

Sex, Screaming, and STEM

Admit it, that's really what you want to hear about.

I have to tell you that some of the hype is faked. Like when they say, "Okay, everyone in the crowd mosh for a few minutes with all the lights on (so we can get a few good camera shots)." Or when it's, "Is everyone excited to be here? I can't hear you! Scream louder for all the people back home!"

But that's only because capturing down a good dose of the spirit for the record, is hard to do.

But the spirit is real.

Imagine that electric spirit--300 barely known people with similar backgrounds/beliefs, gathered together with two goals: 1, to help the JETTs and teens have fun, and 2, to have fun themselves. Can you imagine the potency in those possibilities? Add love and genuine concern to those explosive ingredients, and you have something that will never die. You have Wordstock.

Love is such a major part of Wordstock. I ended up spending every meal with a different group of JTs, in a different exotic place of the dining room, and I tell you that THAT is where the fun in Wordstock is.

During daylight hours, every extra second (not spent in class or work period), I tried to do my best to grab ahold of a JETT or teen and get to know them. They are thrilling people! In a lot of cases they were even funner than the staff! I am happy to be able to now call many of them my new friends, to be able to add so many of them to my Yahoo contacts, and to have spent the majority of my time there with them. They are the true gold of Wordstock, and I can honestly say that--even though coincidence handed me a room all to myself with a double bed, the best kitchen access in the whole camp, and so many new musical goodies that it's going to be hard to release them all. The JTs--not the sex, screaming or STEM--were really the highlight of Wordstock to me, and what made the $250 worth it, and what I hold in my heart and smile to now, after the fact.

Just having an opportunity to get to know some of them, to try to pour out to them some of my enthusiasm for my Lover and for my Career, and to listen to them, pray with them, pose with them and hug them--that's what I wouldn't trade for anything else I experienced there. That's what I want to emphasize before anything else.

And you JETTs and teens, you know who you are--I salute you. You astounded me. I love you, you are wonderful, I miss you and I can't wait to chat with you and to see you again (I hope, eventually). Let's just get that straight before anything else.

And then...

...Well, there was still the sex, the screaming, and the STEM.

To be continued.

Love, Joe.

In The Beginning

Happy Birthday, Mom!