Don't You Forget About Me

Dear Avid Reader,

You may have read my post about "Sick Days". I've thought of another universe that exists like that. Lock-Ins.

Does Barry Manilow Know You Raid His Waredrobe?

For the uninitiated, Lock-Ins are when a group has a "sleep-over" at a school, or church, or other building. It's called a "Lock-In" because the participants are "locked-in" and cannot leave the facility. Although this is rarely a strict rule, it is in the spirit of a Lock-In that you stay at the facility for the entire night and leave only when the sun comes up.

While at the Lock-In, you play games, talk with friends, et cetera. Sometimes there are movies to watch and there are probably BIG games that a whole lot of people play at the beginning of the night. As the night wears on, the events become less structured and disintegrate into bleary-eyed chaos.

Most of the time the group is made up of children. I have never heard of an adult Lock-In, but I am not ruling it out.

So, now you have an unnecessarily detailed description of a Lock-In. I Hope you enjoyed it.

Impossible Sir, It's In Johnson's Shorts

The main goal of the Lock-Ins that I have been to, is to beat the night. You want to stay up the whole time and sleep during the next day. As I got older, I ate coffee or did other such measures in order to keep awake. And once you made it, you and the others that had not fallen were victorious.

And you did not accomplish this feat alone. No, you became allies with the others. These allies didn't shake you awake as you fell asleep. The allies were simply there to help spurn you on by letting you know that you were a part of something, a greater good. You were all going to revel in the triumph of winning against the night. You didn't want to let the others down so you kept concentrating on staying up.

Indeed, if you were the only one to make it, the feat rang hollow. But these comrades are only temporary. And this is why Lock-Ins are their own universe.

Face It, You're A Neo-Maxi Zoom Dweebie

Because the Lock-In is only attended by a portion of a larger societal whole, the normal social rules don't apply. If you hang out with the nerd of the school, no one is going to know. If you start talking to a lunchroom political rival, even a hated enemy of your own clique, it's O.K. After all, you just need someone to help you kill of tonight.

And as you and your temporary friends greet the sunrise, you can feel the friendship ebb. And as you high five and congratulate each other on a marvelous triumph, you feel sad that it won't be the same when you see each other in the real universe.

It's just like when the Decepticons and Autobots had to work together to cure the Hate Plague but during the very next episode, the Decepticons try to destroy Autobot city in order to gain access to the plasma chamber on Cybertron.

Yup, Lock-Ins are exactly like that.

The Next Post Promises To Be Better,

James

I'm The Right Of Way

Dear Avid Reader,

Why can't everyone stop being nice?

What do I mean? Well, I'll tell you. Just chill out!

Gentlemen Start Your Engines

I'm driving down the road. I come to stop sign. Across the street, at another stop sign, a second car pulls up and stops. We come to a complete rest simultaneously. We face each other. The second car wants to turn left and turns on his signal blinker. I want to go straight.

We look at each other.

He decides to act first. But he takes a defensive tact. He waves me over, giving me permission to cross the street. Ah, but there's a wrinkle in his plan. A third car is barreling down the road, poised to drive between us. The third car has no stop sign to contend with.

The second car continues to wave me over. This time angrily.

Rubbing Is Racing

Now, why is he doing this? Why is he becoming frustrated at ME. And I know what he's thinking. He thinks I'm some sort of idiot that can't follow instructions. See the real problem is that he should just go ahead and turn and quit worrying about me.

But he's still waving like a lunatic. I begin shaking my head. His anger is wasted as is his waving. What is going on in that overworked mind of his, I wonder?

One thought he may be having is that there is plenty of time for me to make it across. In which case he is forcing his driving philosophies onto me. What he should do is just go ahead and turn and let me wait. Then we would both get what we want.

But perhaps deep down he knows that there isn't enough room. So now he's going to have to wait for the third car, and then we'll have to have a few seconds of stand off before one of us goes. This will cause him to wait and then he'll become even more frustrated.

Or he could realize that there is no chance for me to cross, so he feigns intense anger in order to not look stupid. But he does. Oh boy does he.

Pole Position

Because the second car is trying to be courteous, he isn't doing what he wants to do, which is get to his destination sooner. He assumes a second time that I want to get to my destination as soon as possible just like him. So he volunteers himself as a sacrifice so that I can go while he waits. Now he's frustrated that neither of us is going. He's been thwarted on two fronts.

There is another possibility. He may not even see the third car. Here, we might let #2 off the hook because he is operating in ignorance. He got frustrated, then realizes that there is third car, and now he waits patiently. But for me there is still a sticking point.

#2 still isn't interested in helping me out. If he did, he'd check for himself to see if there are any cars coming before waving at me to come forward. But he didn't. He just wants me to move because he's going to try and wrestle the title of "kindest driver at this specific moment in time" away from me.

He isn't sacrificing, he's forcing his desires onto me. And rather than assume that there is a good reason that I am not driving across the intersection, he assumes that I am a moron that cannot see that he is letting me go. I dare to defy his graciousness on the grounds that I am too dumb or too proud to accept and that makes him furious. He has wasted a kind deed on me.

How gracious indeed.

Checkered Flag

In essence, rather than do what the #2 car wanted to do, he decided to concede to what he has been conditioned to do. He thinks he's supposed to give the right of way to the other driver, and so he does. When the plan backfires, the preconditioned area of his brain becomes angry because he didn't complete the mission, his actual self is angry because he has suppressed what he wanted to do, and he is angry with me because I caused this inner tension. Ultimately, he is disgusted with himself and all of humanity.

So when you pull up to a stop sign, and you see me across the street, don't try and tell me what to do. You just take care of you and I'll take care of me. If you want to go, then go. If you don't you'll be filled with hate at all of mankind.

See how much you can screw up if you mess with me? Consequences man, consequences.

The Next Post Promises To Be Better,

James

Hark The Herald Registers Ring

Dear Avid Reader,

Here's a universal truth for ya': Christmas gifts are a tricky thing.

First off, you gotta do them in secret. All gift identities must remain hidden until the moment they are opened. So that means that you have to invent all sorts of safeguards to protect the gift from being discovered. You have to hide the gift, you have to buy it from an out-of-the-way store or online, and et cetera. But to complicate matters, this desire is pitted against another requirement...

Christmas gifts must be liked by the recipient.

How do you accomplish this? Well, you have to be sly. You can't just say, "So, what do I get you?" Why? Because then you'd be breaking the first rule. The recipient would know what you are getting them.

So you have to be crafty and employ a little bit of espionage. You have to open with, "Hey, I really like that new CD by [Current Emo Band]. Thinking about purchasing said CD. What about you?"

But this is very easy to detect, especially near Christmas time. So what you have to do, is build a database of people that you are going to buy presents for a year in advance. Then you have to constantly update this information in order to keep a good variety of Christmas options. What if you lose your job before the holidays and money is tight? What if someone really wanted a particular doll, but you come to find out they use animals during product testing? You have to be vigilant I say, vigilant!

So buying Christmas gifts is a lot like being in the CIA. You have a file on everyone you know, it's all in secret, and if you are discovered, you will be tortured. It's exactly like the CIA.

Black Friday? Try Black EVERYDAY

This Wanted versus Secret dynamic is a clever foe. It goes right to the core of the gift purchase itself. I'll explain. Gifts come in two varieties: necessities and frivolities. Both can generate the "hoo-ray" effect that you are attempting to create, but each has a strategy to buying them.

For necessities, you need only to look around at the recipient's life. Are they moving to a new house? Do they have a kid? Do they have a new job? Did they recently lose/break an item that needs replacing? These can be easier to detect as they are tied directly to a need that the recipient has. But, getting a mower may not be something that the person jumps up and down for. Plus, if the recipient knows that they need something, how can they be surprised?

So maybe to want to try a frivolity. These are riskier. Because the person doesn't need the gift, the gift has to be in line with the tastes of the recipient. You really have to know your stuff on this one. If you buy a CD of a band that the recipient doesn't really like, then you have effectively bought nothing for the recipient and worse, you have revealed that you do not understand his/her tastes. Well done. You are a terrible friend.

So be careful out there shoppers. Tis the season...to blow it.

The Next Post Promises To Be Better,

James

Poem Corner

Dear Avid Reader,

In a second floor apartment there once lived a guy,
Who dreamed of islands and spiders in the sky
Watching the world from his window unfold in his eyes
And he hated all its walkers and all of their lies

At times he would scream "Why can't they take flight?
"Dare they make rules about spiders? What gives them the right?"
He falls to his chair, panting, cooling his jets
They cannot hear him but sometimes he forgets

For you see he was a young man, brave with fleet foot
And was quick to enter when a brawl was afoot
All of this was before the money arrived
Before our hero was lucky, he barley survived

For the young man was too bold and his temper too hot
Rage festered within him and his conscience was rot
A drunkard, a carouser, and man of ill sorts
Life was a game and he was a poor sport

He might of turned away from this life of repute
Until came the thief in a hat and grey suit
He bid wealth in exchange for the young man's skills
There was a fortune to be made if he could deliver the kills

Soon faces ran together and all became one
His guilt was a knot and then it untied into none
He fired his life out through death in a gun
Lips went to say stop but they became numb

But one bullet spoke out, spelled stop in blood wine
Young men become old when they sever their spine
Now he's a shell, wrath fused to a chair
Despising all the world from his tomb up the stairs

No longer he walks, his thoughts are his lies
Save for his dreams of islands and spidery skies

The Next Post Promises To Be Better,

James

Hyperbolic Dilemma

Dear Avid Reader,

I hate people to death. I hate when they always use the hyperbole like a million times. I makes me want to literally kill someone and then burn the body and then stomp on the burnt up ashes. I will blow up a building full of children the next time I hear someone exaggerate something for emphasis.

I believe we, as a nation, have plumbed the depth of comedic exaggeration. Saying the words "it makes me feel like" and then adding some horrific scene has become trite.

It's as if we have diluted the strength of the original formula. Sure back when it was first used it was funny. But I have heard so many disproportionate responses to everyday nuisances that they have lost all meaning.

While we are on the subject of overuse, how about this word: stress.

I'm so stressed. I've been stressed. She's under a lot of stress. Enough with the stress. The term stress has become an excuse, a catch-all for not performing at an optimum. Everyone has a list of things that they are dealing with, so let's just assume that everyone is feeling anxious about those things. Stop telling me that you or someone else is stressed. If you are stressed, then maybe you aren't cut out to handle life. Move somewhere where there is less life to deal with.

Toughen up!

Another word that I would rather not hear is denigrate. Who made this fashionable? It's an unnecessary word. It's a gaudy vocabulary flourish. Instead of "I don't mean to denigrate you" just say "I don't mean to insult you".

Anyway, that's what's been bothering me.

I feel like Andy Rooney.

My tagline had never been as necessary as it has today.

The Next Post Promises To Be Better,

James

Just Another Day At The House

Dear Avid Reader,

The warrior clad in shadows, quietly lays in the bottom of the valley. He tiredly stretches and yawns, worn from a hard day of training. He paces and curls himself together, prepared to sleep. The work of the day begins to ebb and gives way to a deserved rest from the troubles of the world. But as his eyes begin to droop he sense something amiss...

Atop the cliff, the warrior robed in ash readies himself. He crouches low, hiding himself from view. Secretly, he plots a surprise attack against his foe. Energy begins to rise from his feet, up his legs. It burns its way up to his body, his arms, and head. His muscles lock, then release to allow his legs to shuffle and find the correct position. As if struck by lighting, he springs into the air!

In the air his arms extend out, preparing to meet his enemy. His legs push out, hastening his descent down the face of the rocky cliff. Is mind focuses until it becomes a blade intent on slicing his victim. As his eyes narrow, he readies himself for the impact with the opponent's neck.

The shaded warrior whips his head around, realizes his nemesis his almost upon him. In the second that he has he jumps to meet the grey fighter in the sky. Alas, the smoky fighter was too quick, his game too well played. The black soldier attempt to correct his path in mid-air. Pulling his lower half back down to earth in order to dodge the deadly blow, he flips underneath the passing missile of iron.

Both gladiators land on there feet and flourish around to meet their rival. Both fly at each other, determined to be the victor. Arms flail at each other. Each punch is met with a corresponding block. Both equally matched and unwilling to concede. The combatants step back, ending the skirmish. Unable to find an obvious weakness, they consider other tactics.

But the drab attacker knows that the battle will not be won today. He ceremoniously bows and then speeds away in a cloud of lead. The sooty champion once again circles and lays down to dream. Perhaps his vacation from the brawling would come easily this time. Already the quarrels of life were fading.

After all, my cats lead hard lives.

The Next Post Promises To Be Better,

James

TFCTLS. IJ&IBYSTM. Part II

...continued from previous

Reality Communion

All kidding aside, you have to keep a sharp and clear mind the whole time. I'll give you some examples of clear and sharp thinking during communion.

I arrived early before service to get my lane assignment from "Mr. Fixer". Every congregation has a Mr. Fixer. Without Mr. Fixer, the doors to the church building would be locked, the lights would be off, the heater/AC wouldn't be turned on, and the communion trays wouldn't be filled. More people would notice if Mr. Fixer was sick than if the preacher was sick.

So anyway, I start looking for Mr. Fixer and he tells me that I have the far left lane, against the brick. "Sweet," I think to myself. This is the prime position. You don't have anyone right next to your hindquarters, there's no chance of bumping another server (decreasing the chance of a drop), and if there is a mistake, there is less opportunity that the entire congregation will see your face.

So I head up to the front pew to join my crew only to find that some dude is sitting in the far left spot on the pew. I knew right then that I was in for trouble. The guy ends up taking the far left spot on around the table during the prayer, and then he takes his bread tray and RUNS over to the far left lane.

The dude snaked the choice lane from me!

Hey, I kept it cool. I finished the service in a different lane. But I almost wanted to tell the dude, "HEY! Mr. Fixer gave me this lane buddy! MR. FIXER! You dare to defy the wishes of Mr. Fixer? How can you sleep at night?"

Another time, I got to the end of my section, and we had run out of juice cups. This may the second most horrifying thing that could happen, with the first most horrifying being that thing that we talked about before. *knock knock* I was able to get the few juice cup that were on my partner's tray and mine get the final rows some juice. It was a thing of beauty.

Half Empty Vs. Half Full

But all of that is prologue. Here's the most important thing that a server needs to watch for: half rows. It seems as though members of the Lord's body need their space and don't like to occupy the middles of church pews. These rows are called half rows and must be checked and remembered.

When you start at the end of a half row and hand it off, you can't just run off to the catch the trays coming from your partner. No, you have to keep an eye to see if they pass it back to you, effectively vomiting the tray back into the aisle.

This problem only happens during the bread and fruit portions. During the collection period, they'll be flinging that plate like a Frisbee to get it away from them. I mean they will shout, seriously shout, at the members on the other end to get up and come take the tray. It's like the collection plate is on fire or made of viper fangs or something.

The problem is compounded if your partner errs with one of two extremes. First, he may jump the gun and force the issue by handing a tray off on the other end. This means that a tray collision is in the works and both trays will be "vomited". The best thing to do is wait and see if the people in your row are going to cross the canyon of empty pew on their own rather than assume the worst. In essence, don't rush.

Or worse, he may ignore his end entirely by assuming that the people on your end will cross the canyon. This means that the people on his end will not have a communion and they will not get any "communion stickers" that can be saved up and redeemed at any area church for an extra pass through the next potluck line. That is unless you get them juice and cracker before the sermon starts. In order to save these poor people the embarassment of missing out on their stickers, you are allowed to walk around during a prayer. This is the only reason that allows you to walk during a prayer that is within earshot.

And you must hurry. Because if they don't get the whole thing down before the end of the "transition song" and the announcement of the invitation song begins, then those stickers will be gone.

It is serious business this communion. But even if someone's potluck points are at stake, you must remain vigilant to the rules of the server. Because under no circumstances, even if someone is about to die and you have the only known antidote in your pocket, if you are holding a communion tray, for goodness sakes, DON'T DROP THE TRAY!

The Next Post Promises To Be Better,

James

Thanks For Choosing The Last Supper. I'm James & I'll Be Your Server This Morning.

Dear Avid Reader,

Do you attend church? Let's at least pretend that you do. And while we're pretending, let's say you attend a Evangelical Christian church and you are familiar with communion. And if you are a man, let's say you are familiar with communion duty.

Now that you undertsand the subject matter for today's post, let's get on with it.

It's The Little Things

I hate communion duty. I would rather lead one-thousand prayers than serve communion once. There are way too many things that can go wrong. From handing the trays to your fellow servers right after the prayer, to handing it to each parishioner, to walking the aisles. There are like one-million opportunities to drop the tray. And you have to go through it twice or three times if you hold the offering directly after.

Why so much pressure? Well, do you know how many times the tray has been dropped? I think it's like twice in the entire history mankind. It never happens. Imagine being the guy that breaks the streak. You'd never hear the end of it.

So after having gone into battle myself, let me give you some tips on how to not blow it.

Doing It And Doing It And Doing It Well

First you need the right gear.

If you are going in front of a small congregation, say only a handful of members, then you may not have to dress too nicely. Casual-formal may be alright. But if you are playing for a big audience, then formal-casual may be more appropriate. Formal-formal may be too formal and dressed-to-the-nines is out of the question. Unless it's one of "those" churches, then you may want to consider a tux. Going in the other direction to casual-casual is no good either. You don't want to appear irreverent. And dragged-out-of-bed is absolutely unacceptable. Didn't your mom teach you anything?

When it comes to shoes, appearance means nothing. Go for comfort and reliability. You are going to be on your feet a lot so something you can stand in for awhile is good. Especially if your prayer guy tries for the mini-sermon & the long prayer combo. Always a killer.

You also need to be able to cut and move, especially during the offering. Those plates come flying out fast. Essentially you'll be running down the aisles to keep up, cutting and weaving the whole way. Julius has nothing on me.

You will also need a cyanide tablet and wakizashi dagger. This is in case you drop a tray. If a tray does drop on your end of the section, here's what you do:

When the tray hits the ground, everyone will turn to look. You will need to look up from the fallen tray and apologize to anyone that the tray fell on. You will then stand at attention, take the cyanide tablet from your pocket, crunch it up with your fingers, and then place the broken pieces under your tongue. Breaking the tablet up will allow the poison to work more quickly.

Then, look across the congregation, bow ceremonially, kneel with your head lowered and then draw your wakizashi dagger. Plunge the dagger into your abdomen, make a cut to the left, then to the right, and then upward, spilling out your intestines. The other person that is catching trays in your seating section will serve as your kaishakunin, your second. He will draw the katana blade that is stored in the baby crying room and perform the final daki-kubi cut.

I may be overstating the significance of dropping a communion tray, but if you do actually drop a communion tray, you might want to consider ritual suicide. It's better than enduring the other member's cold stares or wry jokes that are sure to follow.

Luckily, I have never had to contend with this occurrence. *knock knock*

...continued