charlie's journal

So I just left an interview smiling. This is what I was thinking:

'Damn, I did good.'

'Wait. Damn it! I did good.'

'Why did I want to do badly?'

'Oh yeah, because this is a job for a company fifteen miles from my college, and I want to go and teach English in Japan.'

'You want to teach English in Japan?!?'

'Duh, that's why I filled out the application two months ago.'

'Then, what do I do? ...what do I do with my life? Should I take this job and the money, or hold out and tell them I have a crackpot dream of not doing anything tech related?'

'You can wait until they actually ask to hire you.'

'Oh. Okay, I guess.'

I'm sitting reading.

"Hi, can we sit here?" I jump because I didn't see her sit down, "We saw your car."

She sits down with her drink and offers me one of her two cookies.

"You are too kind."

She knows I'm right.

"No, I just don't want to be chubby."

We sit and read. I happen to be reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. She's reading for Philosophy. I laugh at a part where the narrator tries to tell his son about ghosts. I explain the story to her.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" she asks. "...I do, but I've never seen one...My friends Maiko and Yuka, they see ghosts, especially Yuka...We're talking about things like that in philosophy class right now. I think so completely different from everyone else."

"In a not monotheistic way?"

"Yeah, that poly-whatever. I don't know the word."

And so I start to think, why do I believe in God? Well, when the choice is between monotheistic and polytheistic logic works equally well on both sides.

"My old pastor used to say that if you believe in one God who is a good spirit, you have to believe at least one evil spirit exists."

"...yeah."

I get this bent towards monotheism from my background, my education of ideas. Ideas that are ghosts according to Robert M. Pirsig (the author of my book).

So I ask Him, 'God, why do I believe in you?' And I realize, this seems to be my most personally striking reason for belief. Without thought or hesitation, I talk to Him. I believe in God because I talk to Him.

"There is a saying that people don't have to worry, because God is stronger than all the other ghosts."

"Is it true?"

I just returned from spring break. I drove through the high plains to my parent's house and from there to the Cities. In the Cities I took a flight to Los Angeles to see my aunt (free room and board in California). I spent most of my time in Los Angeles in traffic. I went to the Santa Monica Pier and Long Beach, even downtown LA. But the journey was as enjoyable as the destination - although it wouldn't be if I commuted everyday. Even driving back from St. Paul - where the scenery and weather are much colder - I had a great time.

As I was driving myself back to school for three hours today, I wondered. Why is driving a car and sitting in a plane so enjoyable? Maybe I'm just weird.

Well, Tuesday I am going to the all-dreaded job fair (has anyone had good experiences at a job fair?). I really dread becoming a member of the "professional" workforce. I hate being seen as just a man with a marketable skill who wears a suit like everyone else. I want to get more into web design, web hosting, or something like that. But I'm finding it hard to find a lot of "real" jobs doing that in the Midwest. I might end up moving somewhere else.

Speaking of moving somewhere else, I am also applying to teach English in Japan. I'm kind of feeding two dogs here, but I've told myself that I need to teach in Japan if I get accepted. I'll never have the chance again. Not every American gets the chance to be foreigner for two years. It may be the most valuable experience of my life. I haven't told my parents about this option yet. I'm sure they'd be thrilled to hear I'll be living on the other side of the Pacific for two years.

Far far from home. Our little boy is growing up.

So it's about 10 am this morning, and I'm delivering the student newspaper at at my small liberal arts college (about 1300 students strong this year).

I'm the associate editor and as such I layed out page 3 last night, and I wrote the editor's column for this week. All the editorial staff take turns writing this column. I've written it twice before. The column has my picture and name on it.

So I deliver a stack of newspapers to the mailroom, and the girl working there must be new. She doesn't know what to do with the twenty some off-campus subscriptions we've been mailing out all year. No problem, I tell her the name of a friend of mine who works in the mailroom and leave a note asking if she could please do it. I go to check my mail.

As I'm leaving, the girl says to her co-worker, "Yeah, some guy just came in here and wanted to mail these papers."

It's nice to know I'm still just "some guy" on my small college campus, even though I have my picture right next to my by-line this week.

This post was edited by charlie on Jan 28, 2005.

So I’ve been going to college for a while now, nearly three years. And I’ve spent most of that time making my own grades, and paying my own college bills. But this year, the first year I actually have other things to do besides sit around the house with my family over break, my family will miss me. My parents made me food to take to school, and bought me gas. They even bought me clothes!?!? And this doesn’t even include what I got for Christmas. I my parents hardly ever buy me anything. Where did all this come from?

I’m not complaining about getting all that stuff, but I hate the attention. And they didn’t just buy me stuff, they talked to me, they wanted to hear my opinions, they took me out to dinner. They talked to my friends and actually listened. And that’s great. It’s just what I wanted…six or eight years ago. But I have less than a year of college left, and now I’m the one who is too busy for them (not to mention I have to start thinking about starting a real life for myself). It all just seems like an odd mood swing to me. Maybe they have some spare time now, or maybe they paid off the house, I don’t know. But something has changed in my family. And it’s a great change – whatever it is – but it just seems like it happened too late.

And as I sit here eating a piece of the pie my dad made, it tastes pretty good.