What Happens in Vegas

I went to Vegas this past weekend, and to date, it was one of the most interesting trips to Vegas that I have had.  There’s always that enduring image of Vegas, the whole philosophy of “what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”  Obviously, I’m not the kind of guy that’s going to really take FULL advantage of that aphorism’s assertion, however I have never been one to shy away from enjoying Vegas. 

Most of my trips to Vegas are limited to concrete Vegas like experiences.  Like all true Vegas attendees, it’s almost mandatory to drop ludicrous amounts of money at some silly fancy restaurant.  This time I went to “Cut”, Wolfgang Puck’s Steakhouse.  It was, contrary to popular opinion, a slight disappointment.  The steak wasn’t bad, I guess.  However, I have had many other steak’s a lot better than this place–which, in light of the reputation and hype, was a let down.  However, in the steakhouse’s defense, being that I was down $400 by that time, I was NOT very inclined to order the super expensive Kobe Beef steak…so maybe if I had the Kobe Beef Steak, my feelings about the place would be TOTALLY different.  As it was, since my friend’s steak ended up being dry and crispy, qualities that a good tender steak should NEVER possess, I am writing about the disappointment rather than the glorious satisfaction of “Cut”.  Morton’s still kicks ass.

In other areas too, this Vegas trip was shaping up to be just like the rest: I still lost a buttload of money at the tables, it was still a complete sausage fest with four lonely and single guys, and it was still filled with a disproportionate 10 hours at the tables and 3-4 hours doing whatever else Vegas has to offer. 

However, those three to four hours turned out to be QUITE an adventure. 

We ended up going to a local club.  We’ll leave the fine details out of this post, however, at the club something very interesting happened.  Some Thirty Six year old Cougar (and when I say Cougar, I MEAN COUGAR.  The absolute EPITOME of a Cougar), latched onto our group.  It was a very STRANGE experience.  I’m not even completely sure WHY we let her, but she SERIOUSLY tried to PIMP our entire group.  As a matter of fact, she was hitting on one of my friends there EXTREMELY hard, (once again, the juicy details will be left out of this post), and it was an awkward, but still, near epic experience.  She even invited him to come back to her hotel room with her.  Obviously, he wasn’t going to go.  She was THIRTY SIX, Married and with three kids.  She said she hated her husband cause he is an “asshole”.  But I just couldn’t BELIEVE that what was happening was REALLY happening.  It was something STRAIGHT out of a scene from Desperate Housewives, or some movie.  She was one of the most aggressive women I have ever met, and right when I saw her I stayed away from her as much as I could–something about her just didn’t feel right.  I guess the fact that she has three kids had something to do with it.

Anyways, because I wasn’t really feeling the whole Cougar thing, I decided to stray away on my own.  I ended up sort of on a railling overlooking the club.  This girl approached me, and started talking to me.  After the whole cougar thing, I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of suspicion as she approached me, especially because this girl was, DAMN HOT.  I mean.  Honestly, I’m not the kind of guy that is self conscious and lacks confidence.  I know that I attract pretty girls, but this girl was DEFINITELY out of my league.  No questions asked, and I am not at all ashamed to say it.  There is genuinely no loss of pride–a man’s gotta admit defeat, when he knows he’s defeated.

We started talking, however, and it turned out that this girl is a stripper.  My initial hesitation was confirmed: she was probably trying to recruit me as a client, or something of that sort.  On this wavelength of discussion, this girl assured me that “her boobs were not fake, and they were real”.  She was so adamant to make her point, that she literally GRABBED my hands and forced me to feel them so that I could confirm that they are indeed, real.  Now.  The look of shock and surprise on my face, I am sure, would have been absolutely priceless.  I seriously could not believe that she just grabbed my hands and basically forced me to feel her up.  And to be honest, I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO.  I JUST sort of FROZE in place, kind of uncertain.  HONESTLY?  WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS SITUATION?  Was I supposed to squeeze, and then give her a reassuring wink that I have discovered, just as she proclaimed, that they are INDEED NOT FAKE?  WHAT DO FAKE BOOBS EVEN FEEL LIKE?  It’s not like I even KNOW or have experience with such things!  GOOD LORD.  Awkward turtle x 1000!!

I quickly removed my hands, and just said, “hah, it’s good to know not all strippers get boob jobs” *nervous laugh.  All my discernment flags were flashing red like crazy at this point, and I knew I had to get out of there quickly.  By this point, she had her arms wrapped around me, and to confirm my concerns, she offered to go to some back room for a small fee.  Even offered a discount.  That was it, there was definitely not going to be anymore discussion for me.  I quickly fled the scene, told her that although she is gorgeous, I cannot and will not do what she’s asking. 

So I left.  And I didn’t even look back.

As a matter of fact.  I was DEPRESSED that what happened just happened.  Maybe some guys would have relished in the experience.  But not me.  To be honest, it just made me sad.  It made me sad that all she felt like she could offer me was her sexuality.  That her livelihood, the way that she makes money, is completely dependent on being a sex object to a bunch of horny guys out there.  She’s dehumanized by most of these guys–she’s not even a person anymore, and if she ever acts like a person, guys stop liking her.  As a matter of fact, in our conversation, she basically said “guys often reject me (as a stripper) cause they say that I seem too nice, and they want a ‘naughty’ girl”.  Hearing that, seriously cut my heart. 

And I couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t do what other guys do to her.  When I saw her, no matter how much my instincts tried to take over, what I saw wasn’t a stripper, a sex object, or breasts.  I saw a woman who was as insecure as everyone else.  Who was hurting.  Who was struggling.  Who wanted to be accepted by me, even though it was a superficial acceptance.  I saw a woman who had a personality that was worth more than just $200 for one hour.  I saw a woman who needed God, who needed love just as much as everyone else.  And that reality just made me sad.

I left the club, early, feeling really down.  However, the night would definitely not be over yet.  I got into the taxi cab, and the taxi driver asked me where I was going.  When I said “The Venetian”, the hotel I was staying at, he started spewing out a stream of cuss words.  Obviously, I was at a loss of words.  In the thickest Russian accent imaginably, he lashed out furiously, “F’ing Venetian, everybody f’ing Venetian.  Nobody give big tip, everybody f’in cheap.”

Once again, awkward turtle was in full effect.  “Eh…please don’t kill me.  I’m sorry, should I take another taxi?”  I mean, the guy straight up looked RUSSIAN MAFIA.

“No, no, we go to Venetian.  Say, where are you from?”

“I am from Los Angeles.”  This reality brought a smile to the man’s face, because he was from LA originally, too.  He immediately became a lot more friendly to me, and started warming up to me.  The conversation went from awkward as hell, to mildly entertaining. 

However, all good things must come to an end.  The russian guy, in the middle of our conversation, suddenly had a bright idea.  “Say, why not I take you to a massage place nearby?”

“Massage?  How much is it?”  I asked, with an obvious suspicion to my voice.

“$80.  $80 dollars, 30 minute massage full body.  Then end with BJ, and you go home happy.”

Obviously, I was stunned.  I had basically been offered sex TWO TIMES ALREADY IN ONE NIGHT. 

“No thank you, but thanks for asking…”

“No problem.  You want to go, I will tell you where it is.  It’s there, palms…”

By now, I sort of tuned out of the conversation.  We were almost at Venetian, and because I sort of felt sorry for this guy, I gave him a rather large tip.  I think it made his night.

I got out of the taxi, and walked into the Venetian.  I was spent–I got into the elevator, with full intention of going back up into my room and trying to sleep.  However, the night just kept getting more and more interesting.  This time, when I got into the elevator, I heard the distant chatter of two obviously drunk girls in the distance.  It got closer, and closer, till eventually, they were fated to take the same elevator ride as me.

One of the girls was obviously incredibly drunk.  She could barely walk straight, and was talking in slurs.  She started talking, loudly, about how she was lost and coudln’t find her way in this hotel.  “It’s sooo confusing,” she blasted out loud.  She was caucasian, and by now, basically was leaning on me and “checking me out”. 

I’m a nice guy, so I offered to walk them to their room.  As we were walking, it became a quick reality that this girl was into me.  Either she was wearing alcohol lenses, or my working out has actually been paying off.  She started holding onto my arm, telling me how cute I was.  I made a quick comment about how “she probably thinks everyone is cute when she’s had a lot to drink,” in which she quickly reassured me that “NO!  Don’t blame it on the a-aa-aa-aa-aaa-al-co-hol” (she was joking and singing that one song, blame it on the alcohol, i dunno if you guys know the song).  Meanwhile, the less drunk of the two kept making comments about how I was such a nice guy to walk them back to their room, and how it’s so hard to find nice guys these days. 

We got to the room, and I knew that I had to leave AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.  However, the girl who was drunk started trying to kiss me, and then asked me if I wanted to come into the room.  Once again, obviously, I was not going to accept her invitation.  The other girl encouraged me to come in too, saying that we could “party together”.  Maybe other guys would have been tempted.  But honestly, I felt nothing.  If anything, I felt even MORE depressed by the situation.

I said my good-byes as quickly as I could (no point in staying in this awkward turtle x 3 situation), and walked hurriedly down the hallway back to my room.  God.  I felt dirty.  I didn’t even do anything.  And I felt dirty.

I went back to the room, and I seriously just sat in my bed for the next 2 hours, looking at nothing.  Thinking.  Pondering.  Feeling so damned depressed about everything that happened that night.  I felt saddened that so many people live in this reality, and that women are so often pigeonholed into this “sex object” existence. 

What has our culture become.  Vegas is a dark place.

The Game

So my sister had some of her students write a blog (comedic blog) about relationships.  As a precursor to me posting this, let me just clarify that this is not MY TEACHING.  If anything, blame my SISTER cause obviously she is teaching them SOMETHING completely wrong.  Secondly, don’t take it offensively, the kids were just kidding, because my sister told them that they were supposed to be funny and try to use some satire/irony to present their ideas.  So they tried super hard to think of ways to be funny and ironic, but I gotta say, some of the stuff on here is definitely controversial even as a joke.  I find it hilarious cause I know the kids and I know they’re good guys, but since you guys have no idea who they are you’ll probably “wonder about them”.  Just take my word for it, they really didn’t mean it.  I think.  Still, it’s kind of interesting how these guys perceived these things (even as a joke) based on cultural paradigms and representations in the media.  It’s also interesting that they are only 9th graders.  But what’s even more interesting is that I’m reading a book called “The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pick Up Artists”, and I have got to say, reading that book has made me sort of SAD, in a weird way, about relational interaction.  That’s for another post…Anyways, without further ado…Here it goes:

Submission One: “How to Keep Your Girlfriend”

1. Lie.  Tell her everything she wants to hear.  Lie about yourself, where you live, just lie about your life

2. Bring Gifts.  Always, bring roses or things she wants.  Do something that she will like.

3. Always know where she is.  Never let her out of your sight.  Call her every second of the day and make sure you know where she is at all times.  You know you are in a good relationship when you know their daily schedule.

4. Be a romantic guy.  Every girl’s dream is to have romantic moments.  Be her Romeo and make her happy.

5. Make sure you are the boss.  If she is gaining weight, yell at her to lose weight.  You dont want your girl to take power over you.  You always want to be bigger than her, to do that you need to constantly make fun of her and let her know you’re the boss.

6. Be strict.  When she has done something wrong, let her know what she did was wrong.  You don’t want people talking bad things about her.  Don’t let it go, always remind her until she doesn’t do it.

7. Keep everything a secret.  Your girlfriend already loves you.  It’s not like she’s going to leave you.  So it’s okay to keep things a secret from her.  Communication is not very important in a relationship.  She doesn’t need to know everything about you.  But you need to know everything about her!

8. Do everything together.  Even if you are studying, be with her.  Always, always, never let her go.  Even if she’s doing something that you don’t like, act happy or pretend you are enjoying it.

9. Don’t limit yourself.  We are men, and that means we are hunters.  We can’t just limit ourself to one relationship.  It’s okay to have 2 or 3 relationships at a time because its hard to limit ourselves to one person.

10. Call her before you sleep.  Before you sleep tell her a story.  Keep talking to her until she sleeps.

Submission Two: “How to Strengthen Your Relationship”

Everyone, I mean EVERYONEm needs a boost in their relationship.  Here’s a couple of ways to spice it up old school.

1. Try not to hold her hand, but if she does, squeeze it really hard until she cries.  (This will be taken as a sign of strength)

2. Once a month, sneak up on her from behind and knock her over.  Girls love to be roughed up.

3. Tell your girlfriend you’re going to dinner.  Drive for hours so she thinks its special.  Then take her to a burning tire yard.  When she gets upset, tell her you were kidding and you’re really going to dinner.  Then go straight home.  When she starts crying and asking why you would do such a thing, whisper quietly in her ear, “because I can…”

4. Look her in the eyes and smile.  Then punch her in the face.  Girls love a spontaneous guy.

5. Play with her hair.  Play with it HARD. 

6.  Take her out to dinner.  Right when she’s about to order, interrupt and say, “no, she’s not hungry.”  Make her watch you eat.  Girls love a guy that speaks for her.

7. Spit often.  I noticed girls like guys that spit.

8. Remember her birthday, but don’t get her anything.  Teach her that material objects aren’t important and the only thing that is important is keeping you happy.  Tell her your happiness is the greatest present she can get.

Obviously, if they followed their own advice, they would fail at this relationship game.  Or would they?

Post Grad Life: Friends

Another facet of post grad life that’s very intriguing is the concept of friendship.  I think in college you sort of take this for granted, because you have a plethora of people that you can befriend at any moment.  I remember in my dorm, my freshman year, I was quite a friend machine.  Anyone and anything I see would instantaneously become a possibility for a friendship, and I was pretty damn eager to connect with just about anyone.  It was quite a different social experience for me: I come from El Centro, a crappy little suburban city in the middle of absolutely nowhere.  Honestly, the only thing worth boasting about are the amazing tacos and mexican food in the city, and literally, nothing else.  The high school sucked.  The social atmosphere sucked.  Honestly.  It just sucked.  Oh and there were no korean girls.  None.  Except one.  And she was dating a mexican guy.  F my life.

I mean, it used to get as hot as up to 120 DEGRESS fahrenheit on a bad day.  ONE HUNDRED TWENTY.  The place was so hot that my grandmother used to walk outside IN THE NUDE.  NAKED.  With 80 year old saggy breasts.  I mean, I’m not trying to make fun of my grandma…we had a love/hate relationship, because she used to throw remote controllers at me out of anger and frustration.  But I do wish I had gotten to know her better, honestly, and near the end of her life, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of empathy toward her.  But, at the same time, I was only in elementary school at the time!  AND SHE WOULD WALK COMPLETELY TOPLESS  IN MY APARTMENT COMPLEX.  WHERE ALL MY FRIENDS USED TO BE.  SHE WOULD BE NAKED, OUTSIDE, FULL FRONTAL NUDE FOR ALL MY FRIENDS TO SEE.  AND TRUST ME.  THEY SAW.  AND LAUGHED. 

Imagine my disdain everytime I hear her scream “Sam-eee-yaaaa”!  That phrase was like a knife striking my heart with a tinge of fear every time.  I would glance nervously around me, and run away as fast as I could to minimize the amount of humilitation I would have to endure from my friends.  IT WAS PAINFUL FOR A LITTLE KID. 

I have this sense of deja vu, as I write this, which means that I feel like I shared this story already on my blogs but I can’t seem to find where.  If I have shared this story already, oh well.  I guess regurgitating material is not the worst thing in the world.  But honestly, my friends used to treat me like crap when I was a little kid.  They used to steal from me.  And back in my adolescent days, I was hyper nice.  Like.  HYPER nice. You know those guys who are TOO NICE?  Yes.  I was one of those guys.  Trust me.  Too nice exists.  You may not think so, and you may defend with all your idealistic heart that there is NO SUCH thing as too nice of a guy.  BUT TRUST ME.  They do exist.  And I used to be one.  I bet you you know a few of these “too nice guys” in your life.  And I bet you, you too, think they are TOO nice.  That it’s a bit “cute”, but at the same time, if anyone were to ask you “what do you think of this guy”?  Your immediate response is: “Oh, he’s so nice.”  Would you date him?  “No, I mean, he and I are just good friends.”  THE FATE OF THE TOO NICE GUY.  SUCKS!

Anyways, the reason why I bring all this up is this: there were multiple “social stages” of my life.  Honestly, looking back, although I did have a wide variety of people I hung out with and talked to, I never really had that many friends in high school.  God, there were so many days that I would sit at home with literally nothing to do.  It’s no wonder I got to be so damned good at video games.  I mean, for goodness sakes, I was ranked 26th on Warcraft 3 when it first came out.  I mean, God, how many girls are attracted to a guy who’s rankd 26th in Warcraft 3?  “Baby, watching you click that mouse at 160 actions per minute just turns me on.”  CHYEA RIGHT. 

Then I got to college, and everything changed.  I started making tons of friends.  I joined a frat.  I was socially “hip”, if you want to call it that.  It was all going fine and dandy, but just as quickly as it started, I got closer to God again.  Then my legalistic notions consumed me, and suddenly I found myself alienating myself from the people I used to hang out with.  I got sucked into this existence where the only people I could befriend were people who acted, talked, thought, and were exactly like me: Asian Christian.  I didn’t even know how to communicate with people who weren’t like me, anymore.

I stuck to that group with all my strength, soul, and being.  I joined CCM.  I joined SFC.  I joined multiple local korean churches, and I completely immersed myself in this cultural bubble.  Even PC, although definitely more diverse than previous organizations I have been a part of, was mostly consisted of Asian Christians.  This isn’t necessarily a BAD thing, especially considering that UCLA is like 50% Asian people anyways.  BUT, the point is, I felt threatened by anyone who didn’t fit that bubble.  PC definitely stretched this side of me, for sure, but I don’t think it was until I graduated that I realized it wasn’t NEARLY as much as I thought it was while I was living it.

You see, because now, I really don’t have any “friends”.  I mean, of course I have friends in the sense that every friendship I’ve made in the past, I still hold onto dearly.  I love the people that I’ve met through PC and CCM, and although I don’t get to see them often, I’ll consider them close for probably my entire life.  But I don’t have friends locally.  I don’t know a single person in Northridge that’s older than 17 years old.  And obviously, I don’t hang out with 17 year olds regularly, because, that would just be freaky.  I mentor many of these guys, and play ball with them once in a while.  But we’re not friends, in the traditional sense of the word, by any measure. 

The people that I consider friends are miles away.  And a lot of them are graduated themselves, or busy with school.  Everyone is BUSY, including myself.  I suddenly find myself having to SCHEDULE in appointments to meet with people.  It’s not as easy as “oh you want to hang out” anymore.  It’s, “let me see where you fit into my schedule”.  Then, I have to make a long drive to some remote location (because, honestly, no one visits me in Northridge, but I can’t really blame you for that cause it’s pretty damn far from everyone), and hang out for a while with those “Dude, it’s been so long since we’ve last hung out, yadi yadi”.  And then I drive back home.  And my dog is my only friend here. 

I’m not really writing this post to talk about how I have no friends, cause that’s kind of sad.  But rather, on reflecting back on my life, I started realizing something about myself…I wasn’t going out of my way to meet new people, to make more friends.  All my friends sort of fell on my lap, through some social activity or club.  And now that I started my own business, so I don’t even have the luxury of co-workers, I think I’m realizing more and more that if I want to make friends I need to GET OUT THERE.  And actually DO SOMETHING.

And so I joined Jujitsu.  And anytime my friends invite me out to go somewhere, I try my best not to say no, and always go out.  The reason is because I want to meet people.  I want to meet people who are not exactly like me.  In my jujitsu class there is not ONE SINGLE ASIAN CHRISTIAN.  AND THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY.  They are Mexican.  They are Caucasian.  They are a random mix of different races, cultures, beliefs, etc.  And here’s the kicker: they are people who need Jesus.

Man, I’ve met and had legitimate conversations with so many people who don’t know Jesus in the past 2 months.  It’s amazing!  NOW THAT I’m not COMPLETELY immersed in “Christianity”, I meet people who ACTUALLY NEED JESUS.  I don’t know where these relationships are going to end up…who knows, maybe I’ll start something here, maybe I won’t.  But the point is this: now I can actually be used by God to affect change in people’s lives.  Because I’m making organic relationships with people, and pretty soon, hopefully, friendships with people who don’t know God.

So what’s the point of all of this?  FLIRT TO CONVERT BABY!

The Elusive “One”

This is kind of a chain from my previous post. 

It’s rather humorous that no matter what stage of your life you’re in, the topic of conversation never seems to change.  Semi recently, I went to reunion of friends, and after 4 years out of college, 30+ years of education between all of us, being in totally different and supposedly “more mature” stages of life, the conversation still focused on that one topic that fascinates everybody that has a penis: women.

God.  It never ends.  I go to my tutoring center, and everyday my little tutoring center kids make fun of me for still being single.  One of them, as a matter of fact, even went as far as to say “what the heck is wrong with you”.  If that’s not bad enough, a couple of my kids (this is semi disturbing), were making fun of me and calling me a forty year old virgin.  WTF!? 

WTF!???

It’s quite sad that I buy into this whole social phenomenon.  My blogposts only get top notch action when I post about mindless, needless, pointless relationship stuff.  Everyone seems to have a witty comment to share when that happens.  When it’s about something else, however…my blog gets no action.  Oh man…I really shouldn’t sell myself out like this…

And yet, here I am.  1:11 AM in the morning, thinking.  Not necessarily about “her”, per say.  But the whole phenomenon of dating in general.  When you think about dating, it’s actually a pretty damned incredible concept, especially when you consider the concept of marriage.  There are 6 billion people on this planet.  And somehow, in the mix and chaos of all these people, you’re somehow supposed to find that “one” person that is supposedly right for you.  Then, to top it off, you have to make that relationship work for YEARS and YEARS to come. 

It’s just ridiculous.  The math, I’m sure, is astronomical.  Any married couple you ever meet, the odds of that happening were so minutely small, that literally the only word to describe it is “miracle”.  Then factor in the reality that most marriages (especially in the 21st century) fail, thereby constituting any married couple you meet that have been together for longer than twenty years, AN F’ING Miracle. 

No knock on my parents.  I think they are great.  But sometimes, I see them together and I can’t help but wonder how they made it this far.  The relationship had so many breaking points…so many moments where it could have collapsed.  There was even a time where I thought it was officially over while I was in undergrad…and yet somehow, they’re still together.  They’re still in “love”.  Maybe not so much the romantic love.  In fact, in my head, my parents never had sex and there is no such thing as romantic love for them.  Why might I say that?  CAUSE IF THEY DO THAT’S JUST GROSS.

Anyways, but seriously…HOW DOES THIS MARRIAGE THING ACTUALLY WORK?  I know that you start off hot, romantically super charged with all the flowers, chocolates, anniversaries, and dates.  But then so many relationships just fizzle out.  Jadedness starts to kick in.  All the uglies are on full display.  Throw in the crux of financial hardship, and BAM.  It’s pretty much fighting and yelling all day…

When you think about the statistics and the hardships that’ll probably come with dating, it’s just mind boggling.  Especially when you realize how muchpressure it must be for both sides.  I mean…I’m going to belong to ONE WOMAN for the rest of my life.  And that ONE WOMAN is going to belong to me for the rest of my life…sometimes I feel like I won’t measure up to those expectations.  God.  There’s so much to live up to!  AN ENTIRE lifetime of having to be the most amazing guy that I can be for the woman that I love…

I understand what Paul was saying when he brought up the whole celibacy bit.

And yet…

I’m still thinking about her.  That one.  The one.  The one I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.  The one that I’m going to be able to love unabashedly, and have her love me back in the same way.  The one that I’m going to weather all the good times, all the bad times…just life in general, together with.  The one that’ll know everything about me, through and through…she may not always have romantic feelings for me, in the traditional sense of the word…

But something probably much stronger than that will take form, and take place.  A love that’s more powerful than the superficial crap that bursts into the scene at the start.  It’s quiet, yes.  Not as passionate and charismatic, maybe.  But it’s still there.  Powerful, provocative, and enduring…

That after 40 years of being married.  You still hold hands at the movie theatre.  And you still cuddle up next to the fireplace when it’s cold…

Man.  I want to share that with someone. 

Besides.  I can’t wait to join the married couples at church that grow up and mature as far as conversational topic is concerned.  I can’t wait till we’re all sitting around one day, talking in the most sophisticated manner about the most interesting subject for married couples.  Sex.

Quarter Life Crisis

These past few months have been rather interesting for me.  Barraged by the monotony of routine life, I think I’ve entered somewhat of a “quarter life crisis”.  The hilarity of the situation is compounded by the fact that not only am I fully aware of it, I EMBRACE it. 

Quarter Life Crisis, of course, is relative because I really do not want to live to be 100 years old.  Oh my lord.  I think if I live to be one hundred years old, I will have to go skydiving for my one last hurrah.  I will “accidently” forget my parachute, and most likely have a heart attack on my way down as excrement leaks out of my once healthy (but now dysfunctional because of old age) anus.  Honestly, the moment I have anal leakage problems is the day that I really need to not be on planet earth nemore. 

Anyways, apart from that incredibly grotesque imagery, I really believe that I’m entering quarter life crisis.  In this past month, I have begun a regement of very suspicious “quarter life crisis” type activities…

#1. I have enrolled in my local karate/jujitsu class, and am determined to be on Ultimate Fighting Challenge once before I die.  TELEVISION AND FAME HERE I COME!!!

#2. I am 100% committed to developing a nice set of six pack abs that will blind everyone who by some unfortunate and compulsive force look upon them.  So far progress has been less than satisfactory.  But I swear, I see two of the six slowly emerging from beneath the layers of excessive fat.  Seriously.  I’ll send pictures.  Except, in the pictures I will be completely naked.  So it might be hard to focus on the abs.  Because, of course, my farmer’s tan.  Perverts.

#3. I am taking Jazz Piano.  Why?  Because, when my piano teacher plays jazz piano, I think it’s pretty freaking hot.  No homo. 

#4. I am going to get a tattoo very soon.  I am going to get a dragon that goes from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet.  In complete red.  So there’ll be a huge gigantic dragon snaking across my entire body.  No homo x2.

#5. I signed up for eHarmony.com.  So far I have gotten ZERO profile checks.  F my life.

#6. I read fmylife.com on a daily basis, and relate to most of the posts somehow.

#7. I want to learn to dance hip hip style so that I can go clubbing.  That way, when I’m thirty years old, I can live with my mom and go clubbing every weekend.  CHYEA BABY!

Okay, besides the little bits of humor laced throughout my seven “quarter life crisis” type of activities, the main ideas still apply.  I am getting a six pack (cause I’ve always wanted one), learning jazz piano (cause I’ve always wanted to, and thirty is the beginning of the end of my life neways), taking martial arts classes (so that I can karate chop my tutoring center kids more effectively when they do not pay attention), getting a tattoo (not of a big red dragon, omg, but something simple on my shoulder cap), and I do want to learn dancing.

These days, I’ve just really been feeling that life is too short, and there’s just so much of life left to live!  I’ve been meeting so many different people these days, and it’s been really amazing.  Every time I meet someone, I realize more and more how simple it is to make non-Christian friends.  This is such a first in my life.  Before, I was pretty much set in my little comfort bubble, without even fully realizing it most of the time.  Sure, I did some uncomfortable stuff.  But rarely did I step out of my safe haven of security to just make a bunch of friends that are non-Christian.

Now that I’m trying a bunch of random stuff, I’ve been meeting people who are different than I am…and to be honest, it’s been quite a blessing.  It makes me realize so much more what this whole church planting thing is supposed to be about.  Yes, I’ve been “out of the game” in the traditional sense this past year.  But, honestly, I feel like I’m more into the core foundation of what church planting is supposed to be than I have ever been.  I’m not surrounded by Christians every day of my life, and I’m making friends with people who don’t know Jesus.  Yes, I could definitely use some more community.  But in many ways, I feel like God isolated me from everyone I am comfortable being around so that I can open my eyes to the people around me…

I’m not going to lie.  This season hasn’t been easy.  It’s been rough adjusting to a lifestyle of working 24/7, of being so far away from everyone that I consider close, and of trying to stay in touch with Him.  But through it all, nothing has changed…I still love God, and I still believe that He can move in a powerful way within the people around me.

Quarter Life Crisis has been pretty good to me.  It has definitely been new perspective, a breath of fresh air on this thing called life.

Another motivation for this quarter life crisis is to find a girlfriend.  Apparently, all my tutoring center kids think that the girl I am going to end up with will look like the girl on the RIGHT.  That would make the person on the LEFT their perspective of ME.

I don’t know what I find more disturbing.  The fact that my tutoring center kids view ME in such a contorted manner, or that they have little hope for my future girlfriend.

You’re out there somewhere, baby…and when I find you…