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| "It's the most ... wonderful ... time of the year ... "
These words floated through the hallway to where I was standing two years and a few days ago in a church in Ramona. The irony was that they were sung in a very sad tone, which made you want to cry.
The singer was Jesse Abeel: a few years younger than I and many times more talented at acting than I will ever be. That weekend was the only time I've ever met him, but I will probably remember him for the rest of my life every time I hear that song. But my story isn't about him, really. When Mrs. (Bobbie) Helland -- the artistic director of the church event -- was telling me about Jesse, she would always finish by telling me about his older brother Taylor, "whom you really must meet sometime, Adam! I really think the two of you would really get along."
I did meet Taylor, once. Later that weekend I had followed my fellow dancer Amanda to the Christian bookstore she worked at, and met Taylor there. I don't remember much of him, except that he had wild hair and eyes that were friendly and adventurous and keen. Mrs. Helland made sure that we had each other's numbers, and we parted ways.
I haven't seen Taylor since. I called him once, over a year ago, but he probably wasn't in town. Or perhaps he forgot to answer, or didn't want to. Doesn't really matter now. But I was thinking today how it would have been fun to go on an adventure with him sometime.
Got out of work today at midnight. It was a long day, I spent over 11 hours in the restaurant because I worked a double. I don't usually do that, but sometimes someone gets sick and so someone else has to pick up their shift and I decided it couldn't hurt. At the very least it's some extra money.
When I got out I stopped by Shiloh and the only person up was this guy named David, whom I like a lot. He's from Minnesota and I think that just maybe I like people from cold places better than locals. Anyway, David and I had a great conversation about boats. It turns out that he and some friends built a canoe last year. They made it from wood strips and he showed me a photo of it a few days ago. It's really beautiful and it reminded me that I have plans for a kayak lying around somewhere and I should get on it.
So we talked about kayaks and how to do wood strip decks and various intricacies of epoxy and whatnot. It's fun if you're into that world, and I feel a connection with the boat building world because my best friend Micha and his dad in Alaska are boat builders. I loved going to their shop just to watch them work, and Micha built three kayaks that I got to try out. That was pretty cool. Anyway, we talked boats for a long time and then we talked about the islands because that's where I'd like to kayak to some day. David was telling me how treacherous the ocean can be, and told me some stories from his trips there. He and this friend of his have a 36 foot sail boat that they take out to the islands every so often and they always have adventures. Sometimes they're freak adventures and other times they're the kind that everyone in a boat experiences sometime or another. Like hooking your anchor in the only existing wreck on an otherwise huge, sandy beach and almost loosing your hands to some machinery when the winch gives up trying to lift the anchor. Or having to get into the engine space and manually shifting the engine with your bare hands because the control cable snapped. It's stuff like that which makes you come back for more every time, I think, because you have stories that no one else is going to have, and when you're in a boring situation that can really make things go more smoothly.
David and his sailing friend have a lot of good stories and he invited me to come sailing to the islands with them the next time they go. It'll be in January or Feburary, he said. I'm excited.
The conversation ended in a funny way because he said that his friend was from the Brooke Institute of Photography and his name was Taylor, and then I asked him if Taylor lived in Ramona and David said yes, he does. So it turns out that maybe I'll meet Taylor after all. Funny how everything works out in time, isn't it? You can read more about one of Taylor and David and Jesse's sailing adventures at Taylor's blog.
I'll leave you with the following quote:
To me, clowns aren't funny. In fact, they're kinda scary. I've wondered
where this started, and I think it goes back to the time I went to the
circus and a clown killed my dad.
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| So tonight at around 11:30pm I was cleaning the bar at the Soj, and I
got into a conversation with Alicia and Betsy. They were having a
bite to eat after a long shift and we quickly found out that we have a
certain nerdiness in common. We talked about the many wonders of
Google, the wikipedia (how many times can you say "wiki" before it gets
really annoying?) and ultra-realism, and that reminded me to show you
guys how cool Alicia's paintings are.
Alicia's paintings are not just
realistic, not just super-realistic, not just photo-realistic but
... ba-da-ching! ... ultra-realistic. Check out this sample: ("Yes, sir, thanks for asking, that's a painting!")
From her front page: "Light. Shadow.
Texture. I enhance these qualities in each of my paintings. I'm
fascinated by the subtle colors hidden in the shadows. I'm intrigued by
the intricate details revealed by light..."
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| Today I got home from surfing with Jimmy and Joe and found over a dozen friends in my house with the lights out, and they all jumped up and yelled Happy Birthday and made me feel special. :) Then we ate pizza and played games and hung out for a long time and it was good.
Finals happen this coming week, so there's lots of studying going on. I'm also still working at the Soj, so I'll be staying here after finals till the 24th, when I get to go home for two or three days for Christmas. My desire for the two weeks before Christmas is to write a formal business plan for a web design business I am starting (for earnest, this time) and to spend lots more time with God than I've gotten to do with all the busyness. | | |
| Speaking of disturbing, this up. | | |
| This story is weird. Bordering on disturbing.
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