Adventure!

Another p(ART)y tonight. One word:

Magical!

Really, it was a hoot. It's funny how quiet conversation can be when everyone's pouring into what they're doing. That's the funny thing about community, especially an artistic one. When everyone is comfortable with each other, conversation isn't a necessity, just a great part of what's going on. And there's something inexpressible about being around a group of friends all encouraging each other and giving great input on what kind of art you're working on.

Which brings me to this: I wrote a very short story, about two and a half pages, that was a bit of an aesthetic exercise. So here's a paragraph, actually my favorite paragraph. Please, read it, and let me know what you think. I'd love to send the whole story to you if you're interested. It's very short.

"The silence in the reddening light had a weight to it; a feel of importance, a touch of necessity. The smallest of breezes touched his cheeks and the leaves of the tree above him, allowing the branches to whisper in the sunset."

So it's rough, it's out of context, but now it's out there. Let me know what you think, if you get the chance!

Care for a tour?

Oh, 

hello there! 

It looks like you've caught me in the middle of doing absolutely nothing. 

But since you're here, why don't I take you on a little tour of our lobby, and maybe take a peak at the str

eet this little hotel of ours sits on! 

Sounds like a good idea to me, so let's gooooooooooooooooo!

No, really, I'm not doing anything. 

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Days Inn, here in picturesque North Seattle!

It does look pretty nice, I'll admit. We're standing right at the mouth of the parking lot, a place that I like to go and sit in the middle of and enjoy the quiet. Let's take a look across the street, and see our surroundings. 

So here on the left is the Echo Lake Tavern. When guests ask where they can get a drink, I send them there. It's also where they tend to stumble in from

 in the wee hours. That's Aurora sliding south toward Seattle, and out of the frame to the left of the bar are the tiny little one-level apartments. To the left of that is the porn shop. And yes, we get the occasional patron wa

ltz in, merchandise in hand. The question: "Do you have a DVD player?" is thankfully answered with a "No."

Dawn. 

There's a filthy urban beauty to Aurora between three and five thirty AM. 

Looking for a room? WELL TOO BAD.

This is truly one of my favorite things to see here at the hotel. I'll admit, it is due to a little masochistic joy I get when I see cars driv

e up, see the window, then drive off. That's right! I mutter under my breath, No more rooms!

"Baby, Imma take you to the next level!" Well that's what I'd imagine our elevator here to sound like. Interesting things happen when it's just you and your imagination to keep you company. 

Well there's more to come, but it's six AM, and that means it's time for bed! Good morning, kids, and goodnight.

INTRUDER ALERT

As many of you know, I am currently a hotel night desk clerk. As many of you know, I really enjoy this job, the quiet nights to myself, and the KARAZZY characters that wander in that I enjoy with cautious amusement (Careful, you might get stabbed). Anyway! Like I've said a few times, I enjoy the solitude, I love it so much. 

But my time here is winding down. A new chapter in life is about to begin, and between you and me, hopefully this one will have a little more action and romance (Blam, blam! Kisses!) Let's wander back to the point, shall we? Seeing as how I'm almost done with this job, another person has been hired to replace me (which on its own is an interesting thing. Of course I'm happy that they were able to find someone, but it's weird knowing this person is "my replacement"). 

Seeing as how there is someone new, they need to be trained. Seeing as how this woman is taking my position, she needs to be trained on my shift. Hence, my solitude has been shattered. Broken, like the camel's back, the straw of finality placed upon its burdened hump. Perhaps I'm exaggerating.

The fact is that it's an interesting feeling. You might get so used to being alone, and then suddenly, you get to hang out with a stranger for four hours. Now we're not constantly interacting, I think she's watching "Get Rich or Die Trying" staring the bard "Fittee Cent". But the double-edged sword comes into view. I'm happy to have company, but annoyed to lose my peace and quiet, as it were. 

And can we talk for a moment about personal space? Now I'm not afraid of a good hug, that's for sure, in fact sometimes I like to say I have a "personal black hole" instead of a "personal bubble." But if I don't know a person, I think that coming within... say... six inches of my person is a little awkward. Would you agree?

Microwaving the Unmicrowavible

I had a Tostino's pizza this evening. I didn't have an oven, so I microwaved it against dire warnings. I kind of has a pizza stew instead of a pizza pie. It did its job.

I am a pretty emotional person. At its best, I can be a good listener, a sensitive person who tries to help. At its worst, I can be "emo." It's fine, I'm growing as a person. 

There is something about my emotions that I value. First, it is how God made me, and he wants me to learn how to become the best person I can be with them, embrace them, grow. The beautiful thing is this: when I feel my absolute worst, my most "emo," when I feel like I'm being filled with emptiness, I know where I can go, I know what I can do. 

I need God. I need prayer. When I don't know what I need, when I don't know what comfort I want, all I have to do is pray. All I have to do is stand in the silence and feel. God knows what I'm feeling. God knows what I'm trying to say. When I've got a weight that I can't understand sitting on my heart, I can simply sit in the quiet and give it to God. I can say absolutely anything, there's nothing God gets tired of hearing. I can say nothing, and God knows exactly what I couldn't or didn't want to say. 

When I am ecstatic, when everything is going my way, when my joy comes spilling out of my body, I can share it with God. I know God helped me get there. I can share it, I am thankful, I am filled. 

There is one major part of prayer that I am working on: God speaks through the silence. I am trying my best to listen. 

Now I love my friends. I have some of the best in the world, probably better than yours, I'm not going to lie. Here's the thing: I desperately want to invite them to Church. I love them so much, I want them to know about this comfort that I have, this joy that I have, all of it that God wants to share. I want them to know because I love them. For some reason, however, I'm terrified. I'm so scared to ask them to come, just even once. But I'm tired of compartmentalizing, I'm tired of putting people in places in my mind. I want them to know that most important part of my being, my relationship with God, and I want them to see where that all stems from. 

Now I have to listen, I have to love the silence. 

Addendum

In reference to the previous post (read it), a friend of mine told me this morning that I shouldn't be afraid of whales, seeing as I live on land. I submit for inspection exhibit A:

Any one of us could have been that sea lion. You, me, like... puppies or babies too.

Juicy Confessions

It's okay, you can laugh. To the left is one of the most frightening images I have ever seen in my life. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I am terrified of whales. 

I was chastised by a friend the other day when I confessed my paralyzing fear. She told me it was foolish, that whales eat things smaller than I can see. I told her that didn't matter, I was still scare out of my scuba gear when it came to these gentle giants (OF TERROR).

I explained (or at least tried) that it's really not a question of being eaten. That wouldn't be so bad, kind of a warm, squishy jacuzzi that was eating away at my flesh— that's how I imagine a whale's stomach to act at least. It's not a rational fear of whales, not at all. I think what I'm really afraid of is just... large things in water. Oh, and coffins, but that's a different story for a different time!

What is it about water? I'm not afraid of say, a mountain, but if it was underwater... if I couldn't see all of it? Gee whiz, that's scary. Giant squids? They haunt my dreams. Submarines? They haunt my waking hours. I admit, perhaps that was an exaggeration, but really, large, dark things underwater— well I think I've made my point. 

Is it a phobia? I looked it up, I think it's called: "bigwetthingaphobia" which personally, I think is terribly unoriginal. 

Golly, doesn't that scare you? I'm on a roll now.

Really, I'm not sure what this is... I think it's a submarine, all I know for sure is that I am quivering.

Now you know how to scare me. Just put me in a large pool of water with... something else and presto! Terrified Kyle. Enjoy it, jerk. Then go scare some kids, since you love it so much. 

Stop that, it's not funny.

I had been spending a lot of time reading "internet comedy sites" at work, thinking it was a fun way to kill time. I noticed, however, that I was becoming a negative person, a judgmental and crude person, and was often scared  by my own observations.

Let's take a couple of steps back. I like to think that I'm a pretty funny guy. I'd tell you a joke right now to prove it, but I'm really just not in the mood for that, but if you're reading this you probably know me, and you probably know if I'm funny or not, so I 'll leave that to you. But as I was reading these sites, I realized that their comedy just isn't funny.

I don't mean "not funny" in the way that, say, a Garfield strip isn't funny, I mean that these sites are cruel, hurtful, lazy, and just in bad form. Sites like somethingawful.com, viceland.com, thebestpageintheuniverse.com (or whatever it's called) and so on don't seem to know what comedy is. 

These sites, you see, are devoted to making fun of completely helpless people. They find people online, on the street, or in the public eye — people who are perhaps socially awkward or people who honestly have done nothing wrong or strange to anyone (on top of that in fact, I have seen extensive ridicule laid upon the mentally and physically handicapped) and proceed to mock them for the world to enjoy. It's cruel, it's not funny. And you know what? When it comes to comedy, it's just plain lazy. It's easy to make fun of someone, it's easy to insult people. That's why stand-up comics tell each other to make fun of the audience when they run out of material. Quick and dirty jokes that get a laugh.  

There are several types of jokes I am 100% sick of hearing. Men and women are different, we know. Sure it can be funny when used tastefully and sparingly, but women don't always love shopping 24/7 and men aren't always watching "the game." Extended comedy routines about the differences between African Americans, white people, and Latinos only encourage racism in my opinion. "Oh man, white people are like this, but black people are like this! HARHAHARHAHAHA." Thanks for belittling the thousands of people who fought for equality (this faux pas is committed by all races, I'm not singling anyone out.) Rednecks are people too, quick making fun of them. 

Now one might imagine a very small amount of comedic room left once I remove these common elements and tasteless insults, but believe me— there is so much more comedy, with such higher quality. Even slapstick can be done with brilliance. All I'm saying is work hard for a laugh, or if you're not the type, encourage those who do. Support well done character comedy (i.e. Arrested Development) over the easy cash ins (i.e. Meet the Spartans, which hit #1 at the box office. God cried that day). Remember, you often choose what you laugh at.