I kind of just feel like writing.

I can't say a lot has happened. There were stories on the trip that I left out that I considered writing about. I don't remember which ones those were now, and I'm thinking, at least for now, I'm content to leave them as memories. Just good memories.

On Tuesday night, I went over to Hime's before the INN, and Minnie and Catie were over, helping cook Festivals (Jamaican dumplings). The whole while they were experiencing bouts of girl talk. A man can only take so much of it, but behold! I endured. At one point I was talking to them in the kitchen and Catie was putting the dough into the hot oil (the final step in crafting these treats). The dough slipped out of the tongs and into the oil, which splashed all over, hitting my arm in five spots. It didn't really hurt; I suspect the nerves in the bigger spots were deadened instantly. I ran the spots I could feel under cold water for about a minute. With Raynaud's, running it under longer hurts more than the burn itself. At any rate, the spots that I did hit with the water never changed color. The three spots I couldn't feel, on the other hand, turned red, scabbed, and I think will scar. I don't really care, and they never really hurt after the first night, but I still give Catie a hard time whenever it comes up -- perhaps a harder time than she deserves, but after all that girl talk, I had to take my wrath out on someone, right?

The INN was good that night, and the Jamaica trip dinner before it. I'm really starting to like Rosa, not romantically, but she's very interesting and we get along really well. I think she gets along well with just about everyone, but since I don't, I can flock to her, right? What a single person flocking looks like, I'll leave up to the reader's imagination. Anyway, we laughed a lot together about some subtle stuff that people talking didn't mean.

Lulu talked that night on a parable that's often preached. I've never heard this take on it, though, and it stuck. It's always nice to have some light shed on verses that before didn't make sense to me. Yesterday, at Casa, a thought occurred to me that since Christianity is such a vast topic, it's like a Minesweeper game. You get to a point where you have to guess, or where you can't figure it out, but in a different spot, there's still new information you can work on, and I tend to give up on those guessing spots until later and get the stuff I can figure out now. But she made a valid point that maybe God wants us to struggle with the stuff we don't get. He wants us to ask questions of him, even stupid questions. He wants us to seek, and not live on our own understanding. So, I started reading Matthew.

I was supposed to meet Jan on Thursday morning, after my first class in the Underground Coffee House. I've been here three years and have still never entered those doors. Anyway, during math I got a text from her saying she was stuck in traffic and hoping we could reschedule for 2:30, which was during my only other class that day. So then she suggested 7:00, which I could do, but wasn't all that excited about.

Programming Workshop began. We waited in 405 for the assignment to appear. Waited and waited. A guy in our group downloaded a Firefox plugin so that the page would refresh every five seconds. We made a few calls, did some information gathering bordering on stalking, as CS majors are so good at. The prof was at lunch, probably drinking a bit of wine. Around 2:20 we were getting ready to email everyone in the class arranging so that no one would do the assignment, since he was so late and we didn't want to waste our afternoon. Before anyone got around to it, though there seemed to be universal agreement within 405 (other people were in other classrooms), the assignment appeared, along with an email saying the assignment was not ready (the 't' was supposed to be a 'w'). The problem was: Some guy flips the lights on and off at 'our university,' but he does it oddly. If there are n lights, he makes n walks. In the i^th walk, he toggles every i^th light. What is the state of the last light after he's finished his walks? There's a pretty obvious O(n) algorithm. We figured the hard part about the problem was limiting RAM usage, since it looks like it's asking the state of every light, and not just the last one. Several groups seemed to think that was the case. So we wrote our algorithm pretty quickly. After fixing a fairly obvious error, we ran it and it timed out. We ran it on the largest possible input and it took about 6 seconds, which is an issue since they only gave us ten. A kid started shooting his mouth off about his O(1) algorithm, which his partner thought up. At first it didn't make sense to me, but after some thought, they eventually convinced me that the problem we were presented with is equivalent to asking: Is N a perfect square? So, I can't take the credit on it. What I can take credit on, is that our group still finished first. The group with the genius who figured out the trick was still timing out. They were using a signed integer, which I was able to point out. You're probably all drooling now in your deep, deep slumber, but I thought it was funny, a generally good feeling, teamwork.

Not a minute after we printed our code, (which was still slower than the other teams' because we were lazy about memoizing) Jan called. She expected to get my voice mail and apologized for interrupting my class, which of course was unnecessary. It turns out she'd had a pretty bad day, unlucky really. Her car broke down, and then she got a parking ticket, even though a cop told her she wouldn't sitting in that spot so long as she had it moved before 5pm. She said she'd called AAA and that they would get there in about 15 minutes, but if we wanted to talk, I could meet her outside Mathes. I made the ten minute walk with two hours to spare. She and I talked and talked. About a half hour in, a girl who went on both the Detroit trip and the Jamaica trip with me (Jan had gone to Detroit too), Nynaeve, joined us, and we talked in the car and waited for AAA for a very long time. She called a good three times, each time being assured the guy was on the way and that if he didn't get there in the next 15 minutes, the person on the other end would personally call her back, which of course never happened. The guy did eventually get there. Personally, I'm glad he was so late. It was good to catch up with my old friend.

Friday night was both Joe and Susan's birthday, both on our trip. While in Jamaica I was telling someone, I don't remember who now, that there was about an 85% chance that two people on the trip had the same birthday. Turns out there were at least two sets of people with the same birthday. Anyway, Joe was having a party that I really wanted to go to, but I had CCF and then Sabbath. It was a hard decision, but I felt dedicated to both of the events I attended. I'm really glad I did, too, though I'm sure his party would have been fun. CCF had been moved from Artzen to Hillcrest for the week, because we couldn't reserve the room, and I'd forgotten, so after walking back to my room, without expectations, I asked if Gaul would loan me his car. To my grateful surprise, he handed me his keys. Cars are hard things to loan out, so I was very appreciative. I drove to Hillcrest, and got there about ten minutes late. I sat down next to Bernard (as aliased by Swood). It was a good service. The talk was on how Daniel refused to eat ceremonially unclean foods while Babylon was attempting to brainwash him, and how through that, God performed a miracle (that is, kept him healthy on vegetables and water alone, and actually stronger than the other people), and finally how it set him (and his companions) apart in the eyes of the Babylonian leaders. I'm not sure I got anything new out of it, but maybe I did, and maybe some years down the road, I'll remember that night at some dire moment and bifurcation will come to fruition.

From Hillcrest, I went to FPC. It turned out that Sabbath started at 10, not 9, so I drove back to my apartment and made a few calls to people I could think of that might be going and wanting a ride. No one I called did. I wish I had remembered that Marvel wanted a ride, but I still don't remember him saying he needed one on Tuesday (Hime told me I should have given him one a couple nights ago). But, what's done is done. Sabbaths are always so good. Just good. They're relaxing and restful and healing and real and Godly and good. That night's theme was healing, whether physical, emotional, spiritual, or any other -al. They had the SST team sit in front after the first couple songs and people could go up and be prayed for. Dee and Lulu (both of whom went to Jamaica and heard my testimony, which was really what I was and still am going through) were paired together, so I asked them to pray for me. Since then I am starting to see some of what they prayed for. Bo (which I came up with from "Black Ops") was there with a few people, and before the service I sat in front of him, alone. When Dee sat down in the pew across the aisle, I got up and sat with her, then she went up front to pray. A little later, Bo and all but one of his friends left, and his friend ended up standing next to me. He introduced himself, which was a relief, because I felt like God wanted me to introduce myself and I'm not usually very good at that, but I was working up the courage. We talked for a little bit, about how he knew Bo, and such. When he went up for prayer, I saw a female friend of mine, Jackie, whom I wanted to talk to, so I went and sat by her. We've not talked a whole lot, but we trust each other I think. It turns out she and I are in just about the exact same spot spiritually and emotionally. It wasn't encouraging that she was stuck where I was, but it was because suddenly I had another person who really understood me in this point in life. After talking for a little while, I said, "This probably sounds weird, but I really feel like God wants me to go sit by that kid," referring to Bo's friend, so I got up and left. I don't know what good it did, but maybe he and I will hang out, or maybe that I was sitting next to him was significant to him. I don't know. I'm just glad I heard God speak to me, something tangible, and that I obeyed.

From there, I talked with people after the service, and then went to Applebee's with 18 other people. I don't think the employees there were all too pleased with us, but they were kind. I talked to Poppy a bit and got to meet a girl on our trip's boyfriend. He seemed really cool. Incidentally, we're both black.

On Saturday, I had several plans. The first was to wake up at 7:30 and get to FPC for the local service project by 8:30. That didn't happen so much, as I slept in until 12:30. I also planned on starting and finishing my compiler for ATL0, which was replaced with a more attractive plan of finishing up season 4 of the West Wing. Then, the plan I did complete, was to buy Club Soda, walk to Hime's, and go to a mocktail party held by a few of the girls on our trip. Our group does spend a lot of time together. I enjoy it, but I feel like I'm starting to neglect some of my other friends, which is not okay. The party was a lot of fun, though I kept being "encouraged" to dance, and dancing is not my thing. Honestly, if I had gone out on the dance floor and made a fool of myself (which is what a lot of people call their own dancing), I would have ticked every single time I thought of that night, and it just wasn't worth it. (That is why I enjoy ballroom dancing; I can know what I'm doing and at least stifle the fool.) The drinks were delicious and the gowns were beautiful. Four stuck out to me, but I'm too lazy to think up aliases for now.

Sunday came and went much the same as Saturday. I began season 5. We had Casa, and because it was nice out, we were finally able to go to a park to talk. It got pretty cold by the end but it was worth it. Even if I don't particularly enjoy nature that often, there's something about talking about the ways we see God while being outside, next to the ocean, surrounded by grass, trees, and mountains. Donna said something that stuck with me, particularly because I've been watching the West Wing lately. She said she was in a poly-sci class where they kept up with certain international current events. In Kenya there were some massacres, just absolutely terrible deaths. Reporters asked a lot of the families of the people who were murdered, "Aren't you angry?" and they replied, "Yes, but God teaches us to forgive." That answer was a common one, not the exception. What stuck was the thought that, here we are, politicizing everything, making big issues out of who gets what, when, and how, making sure we're the most advanced, and have the world's greatest society, making us the most free nation. But what matters is what the Kenyans said. It's so simple. "God teaches us to forgive." We need compassion. We need selflessness. We need to let go of so many things.

I was thinking on the way back from class today. There's a general movement in the church lately (or so I've noticed) that what God demands of us is two things: Love God, and love people. That makes it pretty simple, and sort of implies the rest are details. Loving people can be as simple or as complex as you want it, I think. Christianity is a big topic. A lot of times I think we want to simplify it down to those two principles, and make it easy to understand. I think those principles are important. They are the core of our faith. But I think we might be trying to make it too small. I understand when people feel overwhelmed feeling that they're not doing enough, being "good enough" Christians. I understand that you can calm them, and should calm them, by reminding them that God loved us first, while we were still sinners, and that God loves us now no matter what. And I understand that's easiest to do if you remind them that they are being Christians if they're loving God and loving people, and since the first is rather broad, and the latter can be simple or complex, anyone can feel better, and that's a good thing. But I think too often we over-simplify it. At some point, we have to ask ourselves, what's it mean to love God. Mostly, loving God goes back to loving people, but Jesus says, "If you love me, you will obey what I command." Again, most of what Jesus commands is that we love other people, particularly the poor and the weak, and the hungry. But there are other things he commands, especially since he and the Father are one, and we have quite a few commands from the Father. I don't know. I don't like when we try to reduce Christianity to smaller than it is.

From Casa, we went to Joe's house. He had invited a few people from Detroit or Jamaica or both over for dinner. It turned out I was the only one from Detroit, besides himself, to show up. We had a good dinner, a good talk. We went over highs and lows for the day, and then how we saw God work this past week, much like team time in Jamaica. The food was the best meal I've had in months. We left around 10:30. Minnie had a 5-page paper to write (she thought she was 3 pages in, but it turns out one page was the Works Cited and another was the title page), and I had my ATL0 compiler to write. When I got home, I finally decided to drop the class. Some things I just get irrationally stressed about, and if I can just not do them, I'm a much happier, more well-focused person.

Today, after databases, I walked to Old Main and did the deed. I still don't feel that much less stressed because I haven't yet told the professor, and I doubt he checks his roster daily, particularly this far into the quarter. I'll tell him tomorrow, I suppose.

At 1:00, I met with Bill, like I did last Wednesday, only this time we had more than a half hour to talk. He's a guy I can really relate to in a lot of areas, and really open up with, sort of like my corefas were the last two years. I definitely intend to keep meeting with him each week. I think it's quite beneficial, definitely to me, and I hope to him, considering the meetings were his idea.

I still have yet to do any real work on Senior Project. I'm still waiting for Tonics to get us that server, and she's not been online lately. Tomorrow I'll have to do some work on my own, and set up a server on my desktop for testing. I have the basic outline of what is going into each table and how they'll be organized. Reedy used to be a database architect and so I want this to be well organized enough to withstand his scrutinizing eye. Databases and data structures are just things that come naturally to me, and when someone presents an idea that isn't as "good" as mine, I have a hard time accepting it, and rarely am I wrong in the long run. I don't know how it works, I just have good intuition. I don't have that with other areas of computer science (like algorithms, as was proved last Thursday). But I hope my intuition is good enough for Reedy in a couple days.

On a completely different note, I'm finding everything Hime says about me to be true, which is really irritating. I have this erroneous, sub-conscious assumption that I can make a girl like me, even though I've proved it untrue time and time again, and yet I'm compelled to try. The few good relationships I've had with girls, I didn't have to try for. They just sort of happened. In fact, at least one, I tried not to have. (The "at least" is because there were a couple I half-assedly tried to not have, on top of the one I have in mind.) I wish I were instinctively more patient in that area. I wish I didn't try so hard for a girl and end up pushing her away. I don't know that I have with this particular girl yet -- I don't even know if she knows I like her, but it wouldn't at all surprise me -- but I think I'm getting there. Everything I try to do to impress ends up backfiring. I don't think things through, and I ignore advice that seems off to me, because we all know how much of a better judge on this kind of thing I am than other people, particularly Hime. Anyway, to whom it may concern, I'm frustrated with myself.

For those of you who don't use "bifurcation" in every day language -- I know I always have, but some of you are lamer than I -- it's the branching of something into two parts, partitioning. I learned the word in differential equations last week. In mathy speak, it's where you have a value in a differential equation, and at that value, there's one behavior. Change that value even the slightest, and you get a completely different behavior of the graph. That's what really interests me in life: the little tweaks that completely change the way the world is run.

Sometimes I just can't get over some lyrics. Two songs in particular have been especially impressed on my mind lately (and basically all of today I've had Hey Jude by the Beatles stuck in my head, but that's a different story).

The first song is by Chris Rice. I've always loved Chris Rice. I remember when I was about 8, he came out with a song called Deep Enough to Dream, and it was my favorite. I still know all the lyrics, though they don't play it on the radio very often. We were heading to a the Christian book store because my sister and I had amassed enough "music money" (incentive for playing our musical instruments provided by my ingenious mother) to buy a couple tapes each. My two favorite songs were Deep Enough to Dream and He Walked a Mile by Clay Crosse, which were number one and two on the countdown magazine thing 105.3 puts on. I was never good with names, and I thought they might be the same artist -- Chris Crosse. I'm so very glad that's not the case. Anyway, the song that has my attention right now has been out a while. It's called Smell the Color 9. I believe I was in 9th grade when he wrote it, so it's about six or seven years old.

I would take 'no' for an answer
Just to know I heard you speak
And I'm wondering why I've never
Seen the signs they claim they've seen
A lot of special revelations
Meant for everybody but me
Maybe I don't truly know you
Maybe I just second believe

'Cause I can sniff, I can see
I can count up pretty high
But these faculties aren't getting me
Any closer to the sky
But my heart and faith keep pounding
So I know I'm doing fine
But sometimes finding you
Is just like trying to
Smell the color 9, smell the color 9

Now I've never felt the presence
But I know you're always near
And I've never heard the calling
But somehow you've led me right here
So I'm not looking for burning bushes
Or some divine graffiti to appear
I'm just begging you for your wisdom
And I believe you're putting some here

'Cause I can sniff, I can see
And I can count up pretty high
But these faculties aren't getting me
Any closer to the sky
But my heart and faith keep pounding
So I know I'm doing fine
But sometimes finding you
Is just like trying to--

I can sniff, I can see
And I can count up pretty high
But these faculties aren't getting me
Any closer to the sky
But my heart and faith keep pounding
So I know I'm doing fine
But sometimes finding you
Is just like trying to
Smell the color 9

Smell the color 9...
But 9's not a color
And even if it were you can't smell a color, no
That's my point exactly

The other song just hits me as resolute. I love hymns. They're beautiful. They're simple enough that nonmusically-minded people can appreciate them and sing them, but with a strong melody, not like the mundane, two-pitch songs that are being mass produced today. Hymns are creative. They hit at a point, a cornerstone or centerpiece, a key phrase, and every verse is a different way of getting there, a different reason why that point is true, why it needs to be reiterated. My Jesus, I Love Thee:

My Jesus, I love thee
I know thou art mine
For thee, all the follies
Of sin I resign
My gracious redeemer
My savior art thou
If ever I loved thee
My Jesus, 'tis now

I love thee because thou
Has first loved me
And purchased my pardon
On Calvary's tree
I love thee for wearing
The thorns on thy brow
If ever I loved thee
My Jesus, 'tis now

I'll love thee in life
I will love thee in death
And praise thee as long as thou
Lendest me breath
And say when the death dew
Lies cold on my brow
If ever I loved thee
My Jesus, 'tis now

In mansions of glory
And endless delight
I'll ever adore thee
In heaven so bright
I'll sing with the glittering
Crown on my brow
If ever I loved thee
My Jesus, 'tis now

I just love when songs come back like that, flow right into the same line from a completely different direction. All roads lead to "If ever I loved thee, my Jesus 'tis now."

Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Pinky? I think so, Brain -- how do they get the best stuff on earth for Snapples?

I just want to say congrats to Frank for figuring out Alexander's nickname before reading the last post. That is indeed impressive.

For those of you continuing on from two days ago, you'll have noticed a rather large change to the layout: I threw out the old one and made my own. I rather like it, but I'm having issues figuring out where to put navigation. Tonics suggested hiding the bar at the top (which is easy enough to do) and making my own with stuff I actually want up there, but I don't think I could easily make it look as nice as Google's. (Should I have aliased Google?) If any of you have ideas, and either are good with aesthetics or have some web-design background (put your hand down, Alexander), I'd appreciate the comment.

The flight to Jamaica, which lay-overed in Charlotte, was not too long. Somehow it felt shorter than the one to St. Louis, and it definitely was shorter than the ones to Hawaii and Australia. Lately I feel like I've had quite a bit of flying experience. That was never something on the to-do list growing up.

Much like last year with Detroit, the mission training days really did little in the ways of preparing us. It was good to at least get acquainted with everyone, or at least most people, but I could only give you the names of maybe six people (and four of them are in my Bible study) before getting off the plane. That said, after spending eleven days with thirty-four wonderful people, I now know all of their names (which is a large feat for me). Really, that was what I enjoyed on this mission trip. I did enjoy the work, and even working with the kids, though that was way out of my comfort zone, but most of all, I enjoyed getting to know the people on our team, particularly the guys.

I feel like I have a lot of female friends and very few male ones, especially not being in a CORE this year. As wonderful as my female friends are, there's just something different about hanging out with a bunch of guys you know really well. There were twelve of us guys in all, leaving twenty-two girls.

So, we got off the plane in Montego Bay. After getting through customs (which was a pain) and waiting about an hour for the bus (which would become not uncommon throughout the week), we were greeted by Pastor James and put on a bus driven by Everton (correct me if I got his name wrong). Driving in Jamaica is a bit of an experience. It never really freaked me out, mostly because I'm pretty laid back when it comes to personal safety, but there were times I thought it was possible someone or more than someone might die during our 4 hour drive south to Portmore. The instance of this that comes to mind, and would probably be the first to come to any of our minds, was a time when we were coming around a blind curve which turned into a narrow bridge with a cliff to our left and no guard rail. (Mind you, they drive on the left.) We went around the curve at probably 35MPH and sudddenly he slammed on the breaks only a few feet shy of hitting a semi coming up the other direction. Drivers in Jamaica are pretty used to this, and it took about 10 minutes to back everyone up in both directions, let a couple smaller cars go past us, and get both larger vehicles on their merry way. Coming off the bridge and into the next curve, I got to see a woman's terror as she was sure her small car was going to be smashed by the bus. I also heard that the back left tire might have left the ground (and hung off the cliff) as we took that turn.

We got to the school we were staying at. It was a boarding community college. The guys stayed in room twelve: The Pegasus, complete with 10 double-bunks, yellow walls, and 3 working fans. I was one of the lucky guys to nab one of the beds with a fan, and offered to switch with the guy above me (whom I'll call Brett) halfway through the week, but he said it was fine.

Awakening on Easter Sunday, we found that bugs, particularly gnats (which they call mosquitoes), love white people. Paul was eaten the most, and it was his birthday. I was blessed, it seems, and wasn't bitten by a gnat until my bug spray ran out on Wednesday night, and even then, was only bitten thrice. I did get a couple mosquito bites after that, but they were minor things. Everyone else, though, was just covered. Hime counted 40 on her right leg, and Minnie just as many on one ankle. Gratefully, they didn't itch. The next day, though, they ached. Hime was lucky, too, in that she's not allergic to bug bites and doesn't react like most of us do.

We had Easter service with the people for whom we were working. They held their church in a high school about ten minutes away from the community college in a dome structure. That too was a very different experience, and a lot of us (myself included) would say a more pure one. It was refreshing to worship with no thought of presentation. There was no power point or projector. The worship "band" consisted of Matthew, Everton's son, on the drums, a couple ladies huddling around a microphone, sometimes a keyboard, and the pastor just singing his heart out. We sang maybe five songs in about an hour, hour-and-a-half, of worship. We just kept singing the same verses and chorus over and over. It allowed us to focus on God a lot easier, I think, rather than wondering what the next song would be, and whether we'd like it, or how good the guitarist was.

The thing I remember most about the sermon made me laugh a bit on the inside. He was saying something about how God held the world in his hands, and how gravity was God holding things together, and same with atomic force. I'm not sure I'd say that. Sure I'd say that God invented gravity, thought up all science and mathematics (which I find so much more mind-boggling than the typical aspects of creation people appreciate), but I'm not thinking he's actively putting attention into holding each molecule together. Anyway, it sparked a thought. Last I heard, the Theory of Everything could explain everything except gravity. I just found that humorous.

A pastor from Washington, that I'll call Woody, went on the trip with us. He's one of the head people in an organization called Apex Ministries which helped organize this trip for us. He's an interesting guy, and he certainly has a lot to say. Sometime after lunch, still at the church/school, one of the girls asked one of the guys, "Is kissing better than talking?" Woody happened to be walking by and began spilling his wisdom upon the few gathered. More gathered, like myself, and soon pretty much the entire group was there for at least part of the time (some people began leaving as kids looked more interesting). He had a lot of good things to say, but the way he presented it irked me. One of the things was that he gave a definition of love that works in almost every case, but he presented it as the only definition, and specifically said that for it to be a good definition, it must work in all cases. If I love you then "You are more important than I am." So, me being me, before I accepted that definition, I was going to look at every possible way you could use the word love legally and make sure it made sense. The first one is pretty obvious, I think: "I love pizza." Woody argued that if you love pizza, then you're saying eating pizza is more important than yourself, and therefore you are willing to be unhealthy by eating it. I then asked him how one could love oneself. "I am more important than I am," somehow doesn't make sense to me. He argued, "My waistline is more important than my taste buds, so if I don't eat that pizza, then I'm loving myself." (It occurred to me later that the way he put it was "I love my waistline more than my tastebuds." I love myself should mean, "I, as a whole, am more important than I, as a whole, am," which really doesn't make sense.) I tried to press him a little further, saying that it didn't make sense, and he said that I just didn't want it to make sense. I pushed a little further, and he called me silly, and "of course, if you press a definition to the extremes, it doesn't make sense." I felt like Toby to Woody's Bartlett. "Now wait here, Mr. President. Didn't we just say that for a definition to be good, it has to work in all cases?" Unfortunately, I didn't say that. I was too flustered with being called silly which really distracted me from anything else he might have said that was important. I felt pretty alone until around dinner time, when there were whispers of getting together to talk about relationships after Woody went to sleep.

On Sunday night, we had our first team time, which quickly became known as t-squared, and just as quickly became my favorite part of the trip. Each night, we would spend about an hour speaking to two things: "What did you catch someone doing right?" and "How did you see God work today?" After about a (twenty-) five minute break, we'd reassemble and five or six of us each night would give a ten minute version of our testimony. I don't remember who it was, and if I did, you'd only get an alias anyway, so what are you complaining about?, but she said, "When we got to know the person, we liked them, but after they spoke, we loved them." That's the truth. A lot of people have had really hard parts of their lives, many are still going through those hard parts. It was just really encouraging to hear about the ways God works through all that stuff and about his and each other's faithfulness. After each testimony, two people prayed for that person.

At the end of our first team time, Woody went to bed, and a few of the guys gathered. We talked a bit about what Woody said about men needing to conquer women (I'm taking that way out of context, so don't freak out -- he did have somewhat of a valid point, though I disagree with most of it, as did most, if not all, of the guys on our team). Shortly thereafter, a girl joined us, and then a few more, and eventually all but two people (and Woody) had come. Even one of the security guards hired by the school came and listened for a while. I think it was a really good, productive talk that made us all think. There are a lot of different views on relationships, particularly within the Christian community. Mine tends to be a little more conservative, but not for the same reasons as conservative people, I think.

We showered (cold shower) and got into bed. A couple of the guys came in as I was starting to fall to sleep, each saying that they had been approached by the security guard who had listened to our forum. He was carrying on a perfectly normal, though rather deep for American small talk standards (as a lot of casual conversations in Jamaica are), conversation, and then he asked how much money we had. "I need $100 US before Wednesday, or I don't know what might happen." Some security, eh? It was somewhat straightened out, though. Jeff, the intern leader on our trip, talked to Lulu, and they talked to Pastor James. He told them to tell us that if the guard approached us again, to tell him that Pastor James is taking care of all our finances and if the guard needs money, to go talk to him. As far as I know, none of us talked to him again, at least not regarding money.

On Monday we had our first work day. We ran VBS for the church. They had told us about 100 kids and I think about 40-60 showed up. With 35 of us, there was a pretty good adult:child ratio. Hime has a real gift with kids, and occasionally she would send me out to talk to a kid who seemed to be having a hard day, or one that wasn't being paid much attention to. The lesson was on creation. Some of the kids that came were really not kids, but teens. We hadn't planned on this, and a group of us (not I) threw together an impromptu Bible study. That was really cool.

I had really enjoyed our forum the night before, so I wanted to see if we could get another one going on a different topic. During lunch or dinner I was talking to a couple girls and spiritual gifts came up. That's always a heated topic. Every time I discuss it, I change my view a little bit. Only a week or two earlier I completely changed the way I saw speaking in tongues because of a talk at CCF. I emailed the pastor who gave the talk hoping he could clarify a few questions I had, but he's not responded yet. (Turns out that it got lost in a stack of emails -- he did eventually respond during the two weeks it's taken to write this post.) I wonder if I sounded a little too eager and it came off as trying to back him into a corner. That was not my intent at all. I think I'll email him again here soon. Anyway, about a third of the group showed up to this talk. Somehow I was sort of designated the facilitator and the guy I probably got to know best on the trip, Bill, kept the discussion from getting too heated and made sure everyone could give their input. It, too, was a good talk, and I hope it made people think. Bill said it made him think, and I know it made Poppy think a bit as well. Speaking in tongues freaks a lot of people out. It used to freak me out too, but I think that comes from widespread misuse of it. I hope the talk shown a little light on the real purpose of it, and maybe some of the people benefitted from that.

There were four kids that hung out with us whenever we were at the college. Devante lived across the street, and Nyoka, Mario, and Kamar lived with their grandmother. I'm not sure why they were at the school. Maybe their grandmother works there. Anyway, Devante decided I was named Craig, and all week that's what the kids called me. In response, I started calling Devante Levante, to give it a sort of feminine ring to it. I didn't come up with the name. I think Poppy did, but Devante seemed to enjoy it when I called him Levante. At the end of the week, he eventually conceded that I was, indeed, named Jordan. A bunch of the other guys had nicknames too. Poppy was Fat Joe.

Tuesday was the first day we worked at the construction site. On the way to breakfast, Brett was singing The Wheels on the Bus. Something about it struck me, and I sketched this. He greatly appreciated it.

After being dropped off, we met a man named Brooks. He was a local pastor at another church who was just helping out. We circled up to listen to his instruction, and he led us in a worship song. That was something we were not at all expecting but it was good. The walls of the church were up and there was a wooden framework in various areas, particularly the ceiling. Our primary goal for the day was to level the ground within the walls so that the Colorado team (there was a group for Colorado university who came the same week -- neither team knew the other was going to come beforehand) could pour concrete the next day. That sounded to us like they wanted to pour on the ground, and so we were taking some care to make the floor as level as possible, even when Brooks changed his mind every half hour about which dirt needed to be moved where. It turns out, they didn't need it that level. They needed to put support beams (props) up to support the wooden ceiling so that the next three days, concrete could be poured for the ceiling.

It's been a little while since I've worked on this. I started writing the day after I first posted on this blog. Then I switched a few words to make it sound like I started writing on Friday, instead of Thursday. Now I won't even bother. It's a week and a half later.

On Wednesday, we did VBS again. It was pretty fun, about the same as Monday. We taught them Jonah and the Big Fish, and played a variation of Duck, Duck, Goose called Jonah, Jonah, Whale. That evening, (at least I think it was that evening) we went out on the town. A bunch of us ended up at Burger King. A couple people, though, ended up getting jerk, which is Jamaican BBQ. I heard later that when we were gathering for team time, Lulu said to one of the guys that got jerk that he needed to go to the meeting place, and he said he needed to finish eating. To which Lulu said, "You need to deal with your jerk on your own time." Later that night, when everyone was starting to get into bed (just the guys had this conversation), we spent maybe an hour doing Jerkfest '08 puns. The ladies of the church had organized a fund raiser for the church called Jerkfest, and we were to be the primary participants. It counted as our "night out" meal. The puns were all horribly inappropriate and yet amazing. It was a bonding experience, and even if it wasn't the most wholesome of topics, I still count it a Godly experience. After that, any time there could have been a potential "That's what she said moment," someone said "Jerkfest '08" instead.

Thursday, we poured cement. Thursday was probably my favorite day. I felt like the team worked the most like a single body that day, and I think the most got done. In Jamaica, getting it done isn't really the point. The work along the way was, and I feel like we did the most work. I wish America was more like Jamaica in that sense. In a lot of senses, but especially in that one. I think ambition might be ruining us. Anyway, on Thursday we formed the bucket line. We hefted cement in 3/4 full buckets over our heads and up to the roof to be poured. No one can figure out how we did it. I can't normally lift that weight, and certainly not multiple times for hours on end. And we didn't really stop. Everyone took breaks at some points in time, but there really weren't people just standing around. Even the people who weren't doing a lot of labor (there just wasn't room for us all on the scaffolding and roof) were running around getting people water. At one point, I was one of those people, and dinner was late in coming (or the bus was) so I went to my pack and produced a can of honey roasted peanuts and fed them to the team. I was a hero for a while. It wasn't anything big to me (the act wasn't) but I'm glad it boosted morale so well. Also, on Thursday night the Colorado team left, and halfway through the day, they joined us to work on the roof. They weren't so fast as us when they worked alone, only filling their buckets to about 2/5 full, and having a single-file bucket line, but they also didn't have as many people to work with. With the two groups together though, it was very quick.

Friday, I feel, did not go quite as well as Thursday. I know other people disagree. We were supposed to have half of us at VBS and half at the work site, but on Thursday night, the powers that be decided the church was a higher priority and had the whole group there. The problem was, a lot of the day, most of us weren't doing any laboring. We talked among ourselves, and a few of us worked, but a lot of the time we were waiting for a front loader to get there, or took a bunch of misdirections from Brooks or whoever else felt like telling us what to do. It took until 8pm or so, but we did finish the roof. By that time, a good 3/4 of the people weren't working, and there was no room for us on the roof to work.

Meanwhile, Jerkfest was being prepared for us, and after we finished working, we all ate quite well. They served us chicken feet soup and jerk chicken in a teriyaki take-out container. While some of us were waiting for our chicken (I don't like soup, so that was all I was waiting for), Woody was trying to get the attention of people only waiting for their soup, and kept asking, "Do you have your chicken?" To which we all answered, "No." Then he said, "Wrong answer. Do you all have your chicken?" Me, louder: "NO." He said, "Wrong answer." I asked, "Are you saying we should just say yes? Do you want us to lie? Are you encouraging us to sin?" I'd lost my patience. He finally corrected what he was saying, and said, "To those who are just waiting for soup, get in this line."

From Jerkfest we went to dinner. The ladies had prepared us food even though other ladies had given us our largest meal yet. We weren't hungry. A lot of people made valiant efforts to clean their plates, but most of us resigned to putting the food into our now-empty take-out containers. We hope the ladies never found out. I don't think they should, but I do think they would take it offensively. We kind of figure that when the Colorado team left, the women kept feeding us the same amount of food, but it was just divided up between fewer people, so there were heavier portions, and we'd kind of gotten used to not eating a whole lot, so a lot of food went to waste. A couple meals I passed up because I knew other people wouldn't want my left overs and I wasn't hungry.

That was a weird thing. I rarely got hungry on the trip. We all shared all of our food it seems, but everyone had their fair share at mealtimes. I just wasn't hungry, even after working all day. I'd usually eat the meat, and definitely drank whatever juice they gave us (seconds if I could find it), and the orange if there was one, but then I'd give the rest away, and I'd genuinely not be hungry. I count that a blessing, because I knew going would mean something would have to change in my taste bud habits.

Saturday was our day of play. We went to a beach, and it could not have been more pleasing to our senses. It was a beach the locals used, so it wasn't as well kept up as the tourist beaches, but it was true Jamaica, and that is so much better. The water was cool -- not warm like in Hawaii, but perfectly cool. It reminded me a bit of Shasta Lake on my senior trip with my youth group. A few of the girls had underwater digital cameras, a technology to which I had not yet been introduced. Only a few good shots, if any, were taken under water, but it was cool to get close ups of people playing in the ocean. The kids minus Devante went with us. Mario apparently has some money and was buying all sorts of things, like horse rides and renting boats. A few of the guys were launching people into the air and into the water. Mario got launched most often. He did some pretty spectacular stunts in the air. They launched me twice. The first time was amazing. I must have been 10 or 12 feet in the air. It reminded me of the time I was asked to demonstrate a volleyball block in PE in 8th grade. By sheer luck, I made this beautiful block on the kid's spike. I couldn't have done that twice if I tried. It just had the same feeling of being lucky that my weight and everything was just right, and the angle that they held me was right, so I could jump off their hands. I love it when small things like that happen. I just wish they were repeatable, but then, maybe I wouldn't appreciate them so much.

On Sunday, we got up with plenty of time before the bus was to arrive. We were supposed to have an early breakfast so that we could have Sunday School before the church service. The bus was two hours late, and none of us were surprised or in the least amount of angst. You just don't worry about time in Jamaica. Meanwhile, Justin pulled out his guitar, and we spent an hour and a half in worship. I wouldn't have chosen it another way. When we did get to the church, Woody spoke. It was themed around Jesus being the cornerstone of our lives. Again, he said good things, but the way he said it bothered me. I think I may be overly critical of him, because he's offended me a couple times. Still, even if he hadn't, I probably wouldn't choose to go to a church he pastored because of his speaking style. It's just not mine. Part of me wishes it were, so that I could more easily focus on what he's saying, rather than how he's saying it, but at the same time, there are pastors that I can listen to, nearly ceaselessly, so I'm glad he's able to talk to people who aren't me.

After brunch (what would have been breakfast, but was late in the afternoon, after church [which was postponed so that we could attend]), we all got in our busses and headed to church building. Numerous pictures were taken, and the few people who hadn't yet been on the roof they were building got to see the finished product. Then we prayed over and for the church.

That night, Jeff got the guys together. What he had planned would have been too hard to do with the whole group, so it was just the guys. Basically, we went around the room and just said what we appreciated about that guy during the week we spent with him. Honestly, I have never felt so loved in my life. I've never heard such nice things said about me. I've never been proud to be me, as I was that night. I wish I could have recorded it, so I could remember everything that was said. But then, maybe it's better that I didn't. There was something surreal to the experience, something that was perceived that probably wasn't tangible. Were I to listen to what was said again, out of the context of that meeting, it might have gone to my head. It was a self-esteem booster, not an ego booster. I only hope I blessed them as much as they blessed me that night. Poppy had had a doctor's appointment regarding a heart issue they had only recently discovered, and when we got back, would go in again to have it decided whether it was just a lump or if there were larger medical issues involved. We all laid hands on him and prayed at the end of our session.

We left quite early the next morning. There were supposed to be two busses. One got there fifteen minutes early and we all jumped out of bed and finished getting packed and ready to leave. The second, which would leave at the same time as the first, was quite a bit later. Some of us had slept (myself included), others had stayed up all night. It was about 4:30. I don't remember when we finally did leave. We stopped a couple times along the way. At one stop, I woke up a few seconds before we all got back on the bus. I have no idea what was of interest there. We stopped for some souvenirs a little later. I lacked money at this point, plus I didn't see anything that I really wanted. Mostly I just escorted girls around. (We had a rule that for every group of girls, there had to be at least one guy.)

Now at the airport, we had a little time to eat. About eight of us chose a restaurant and all ordered. Sometime between ordering and getting our food, I felt like I should do something. So I said, "Hey, so I've got an idea, and you're all going to argue with me, and then I'm going to win." This raised a few eyebrows. "I'm going to pay for all of your food, and you guys will pick up the tips." They argued. I won.

The flight wasn't too bad. I read about a third of Ender's Game, which Missy had lent me. I had tried to read it on the beach, but a Jamaican lady told me I couldn't come to Jamaica and read, so I put it away. She was playful when she said it, but serious all the same. I slept a bit, too, on the flight.

When we got back to SeaTac, we all headed to baggage claim. My grandpa came by and gave me my laptop and Easter Basket that my mom had given me at my celebratory dinner eleven days prior. Four guys and myself were driven to Brett's parents' house by his parents, where we ate a bit, and then were off to Western. I drove with Paul in his car. The other three guys drove in another car that was cold enough it had troubles starting, and we waited until they got it running before leaving. Paul was getting sleepy and about 45 minutes before getting back, he asked if I would drive. I've never fallen asleep at the wheel, but let me tell you, it was hard to keep my eyes open those last fifteen minutes. I had to bite my tongue, so that the pain would keep me alert. I really should have pulled over and slept for twenty minutes, but we made it back safely.

On Tuesday night, we had dinner as a group before the INN. After that, I think we basically decided to do it every week for the rest of the year. We're a good group. One of the girls whose meal I paid for in the airport came up to me and told me something. She's a nanny and had bought an expensive camera right before leaving. She had deposited her last pay check expecting to use it as her spending money on the trip. While she was on the trip, the check bounced, and had she paid for dinner that night, she would have overdrafted and been charged a $50 fee. I just found that great how that worked out. Tuesday was also the first day of classes. After my math class, I had a three hour break and so was heading back to my room to have lunch. On the way back, I saw the prof teaching Database Theory heading to his class, and on a whim, decided to audit the class for a day, and then join it. So much for my easy, 12-credit quarter.

On Wednesday night, my senior project group (Tonics, Lolbot, Curly, and I), got together at Applebee's to discuss possible project ideas. Lolbot suggested a cellphone app that could take a picture of a barcode for a product, talk to a server, and find out if there are any nearby better deals on the same product. It was a cool idea, and we decided to use it. Then we had to think of a name. Applesauce had been a code word for "[Lolbot] didn't actually say this," in a joke with one of the other CS guys who was trying to contract us into a subgroup of his senior project. And thus, Applesauce became our project name. Over the next few days, Curly and Lolbot experimented with various phone cameras and came to the conclusion that the images produced weren't high enough quality for the barcode scanner, and that basically ruined our idea, but we tweaked it a bit, and now have a new project that still has to do with servers and cell phones. I'm not entirely sure what all the details are, but basically it's a stalking tool that's a mix of Outlook, Facebook, and Google Maps. Imagine the possibilities. Applesauce.

On Friday night, Lolbot drove me to Renton, and my mom picked me up from there. We went to the mall, and I got new shoes, a Macbook carrying case, and a couple shirts. It was my mom's birthday on Sunday, so I went home.

It turns out that Tonics was a bit ill on Wednesday night, and Lolbot and I both caught her plague. So on Saturday, I laid around pretty much all day, with a headache, a stomach ache, a sore throat, and worst of all, a body ache that basically kept me from moving. That night, my mom's cousin (my off-and-on boss) took us out to dinner in Tacoma. It was a pretty loud place, but it had big portions of good food. I people watched a little bit. There was a couple across the plant barrier that were on a date, probably a first or second one. They were two of the most physically beautiful people I've seen. He had perfectly messy hair, and she had a very soft face. Anyway, he was tanking. It seemed to me like he kept talking and the more he talked, the less she agreed with him, but he didn't seem to notice. She politely stared at him as he rambled on and on, but I think she was starting to get angry. I found it amusing.

On Sunday, I was feeling much better. The body ache had gone. Jack threw a small birthday party for my mom after church. I guess some of our family friends that I'd heard got divorced only got separated and, at least for the time being, aren't planning on getting divorced. I found that a little encouraging at least.

From the party, we drove back to Renton where Lolbot picked me up and we drove back to Bellingham. He was a day behind me in the sickness and was aching all over while driving, though I couldn't tell by the way he drove. I missed Bible study (I knew I would before I left the party), so I was a little bummed.

On Monday and Tuesday I was sick. Very sick. I missed all my classes. On Tuesday, I developed a fever so bad that I actually went to the health center. They took one look and put be me first in line to be seen by a nurse. That evening, I thought I was feeling better and was trying to decide whether to go to the pre-INN dinner or not. I'm glad I didn't, because my fever came back shortly after it began. Between the dinner and the INN, about twelve of the people on my trip came and visited me. I felt very loved. A few of them commented later that my roommates seemed overwhelmed at so many people.

On Wednesday, I went to most of my classes. We met with Reedy for senior project, and I had Database Theory. I had compiler theory, too, but at that point I was again not feeling great and also planning on dropping the class. Because I'm taking databases, I don't actually need compilers. That night, I got an email from the prof saying, "Please go to the health center and get a note so that I can give you more time on the homework." Then I had one of those "ohhh" moments. That was nice of him. So, then I felt bad about dropping the class, but still felt like I should, so I talked to Julie about it. She thought I should too, and told me how to go about talking to the prof, making sure that I wouldn't offend him or anything. I talked to him, and he said he didn't really care when people dropped his classes, unless half the class drops, but that he had been hoping to help me get caught up. "Ohhh." So I kept the class. He pushed back a couple due dates for me, and so far I'm on schedule.

That night we had a mission trip post-trip team meeting at Lulu's house. It was more of a potluck and less of a meeting, though we did get in a circle and fill out an exit survey about our experiences on the trip. I found out that Poppy had gone to the doctor. They said there was no trace of what had been there before and that they had no explanation. If that's not proof that prayer works, I don't know what is. I'd also been praying that Swood would find a job, and Boeing gave him an offer. I'm pretty stoked about that.

Classes are going well now. Math is my fun class. Databases is going a whole lot better than I anticipated. The prof is known for getting up in front of the class and doing proofs as his method of teaching, but he's yet to do one, and I'm learning a lot. Senior project is not really a class. I've not done any real work on it yet, but that's mostly because we don't have a server yet, and I'm the database go-to guy on our team. Compiler theory isn't as awesome as I hoped it would be, but still a worth-while class. I can still drop it if I want to, but I'll have to take my first and only W on my transcript. A single W doesn't really matter, but I think it would still bother me.

Donna and I talked at the INN tonight. I had been talking to Marvel about CS stuff, so when she came over, we kept talking about CS. She, being a Poli-Sci person probably had little to no interest in CS, but she kept listening. I tried to change the subject a few times, but didn't really succeed, until we started talking about the West Wing. She's finished her 7 seasons and had begun to watch again with her friend. Then we started talking about Studio 60, and Hime pushed me out the door.

Just let me say one last important thing. I am seriously considering getting a dog. Dang, and still 200 words shy of my longest post.

It would appear that this is my first post. You, my friend, are mistaken. This is a continuation blog, a continuation from wyzegui.livejournal.com. It's sort of a branch or a fork, you might say, because I will continue to use that LiveJournal account.

See, two years ago, I was in love with a girl. Up until this point, my blog had been public. I had met another girl through my blog and ended up in Australia as a result -- perhaps my favorite two weeks. Having it accessible to everyone was convenient and something I enjoyed. But I was in love with a girl. She was 3 years my junior, and at this point, I was 18. Some imbeciles got it into their heads that because I loved her, if I started dating her, I would sleep with her. Seeing as how she'd be 16 in about half a month, and by Washington state law, after the age of 16, the person must be 5 years older for it to be statutory rape, the argument was quite pointless. It was doubly moot as I wouldn't have (and never did, of course) sleep with her, but they had thick skulls and kept saying I was pedophiliac. About the point where they said they wished they could contact her father, I kind of freaked out. See, if they had the brains to read back through my blog, they very easily could have figured out who her father was and then contacted him. I wouldn't mind if they talked to him, for my sake (except that he might have disapproved of his daughter's name in my blog), but the fact that they could potentially stalk her, or any of my friends for that matter, really bothered me. So at that point, I bunkered down. I deleted my blogger account, and set every post in my LiveJournal account to friends-only. It was sad.

So, for two reasons have I arrived here. First, I enjoy the public setting. I hope I can find another Australian friend and end up there from time to time (Europe would be fun too). I hope people make constructive criticism to my blog, or if they're careful, my life and thoughts. Second, this is Wall of Text. On average, my posts are 2,500 words apiece, with a maximum (thus far) of about 6,600 words. Such a painfully long winded (jokes on you! -- I'm typing) author needs his own domain name.

So, how do I avoid stalkers? Easy. I systematically execute them as they make themselves known. All stalkers must eventually present themselves to their targets, and that's when I strike.

But, on the off chance they remain voyeuristic for the entirety of their stalking career, I will alias basically everyone. For those of you I know, I will maintain my LiveJournal account to keep a mapping of aliases to real names. (Those of you who wish to be known by me can comment, and I'll either friend your LJ account or give you the password to my guest account.) Henceforth, the previously mentioned girl will be affectionately called Dumb Girl, not because she's dumb, but because she makes (or made) me dumb. I reserve the right to realias at any time for any reason, including, but not limited to, their lack of shoes, shirt, or service.

Let the games begin.

Much has happened since I last posted. Very much, though you couldn't tell by looking at this page. It looks like I skipped the entire month of March. What madness!

Boeing sent me to St. Louis for an interview. The ISCFP is located in three areas: Renton (aka Western Washington), Southern California, and St. Louis, and everyone who applied was flown down there. When I went to the job fair, the guy I talked to said I had a month after I got my offer to decide whether to take it. So, I was flown down there without much incident. I had to skip two sessions of 444 and one of the rest of my classes. I had asked to get a later flight so I could attend Thursday's 444 class, but I couldn't then find a ride down to the airport, and had to use the airporter's service, which left at 9:15 (class started at 9:00). So Gaul drove me to the inn and the bus brought me to SEATAC, which brought me to Chicago, and down to St. Louis. In Chicago, I was sitting at the gate and talking with a couple people, a woman and a girl my age. I'd alias them, but, well, I don't know their names, and if I attempted, there's a chance I'd pick their names out randomly. In the terminal, I was sitting there talking, and a mouse appeared. I saw him run out of the gate next to us. I thought he was cute, but the women had other ideas. I just found it ironic that every few minutes, a voice on the intercom would say that the national security threat level was orange, and no one flinched, but enter a mouse, and well, better hide on the tops of chairs.

So I got into the airport. The lady I had talked to in Chicago offered me a ride to wherever it was I was going, but I assured her the hotel would supply a bus for me. After asking around a little bit, I eventually did contact the hotel and they drove me. It was easily the nicest hotel I've been in. It probably shouldn't have surprised me, but it did, that I got my own room. The next morning, I got up around 5:30 or 6:00, showered, ate at the restaurant (Boeing has little food tickets they give to anyone they're keeping at the hotel), and then joined a group of people that looked like Boeing employees. (It was seriously the best orange juice I've ever had.) There was one guy I really liked, named Doug. I asked him, while we were sitting in the lobby, if we'd come back before we needed to go to the airport, and if I should go pack and grab my stuff like everyone else seemed to be doing. He said I didn't need to, or at least, that's how I interpreted his answer.

The shuttle from the hotel brought us to the Boeing site. It wasn't very well organized. There were supposed to be two groups of students, and the email said that the first group should be ready for the bus at 7 and the second at 7:30 (when I think they meant 10:30), only, it didn't say which group any of us were in. Apparently I was in group two, but it worked out because one of the guys in group one was stuck in an airport and came just in time for my interviews, so I switched with him.

Prior to the interview (a week or two in advance) we all received an email with pre-interview work. Basically, they posed a very simple problem having to do with a personnel database, and asked us to solve it, then discuss our solutions in a group and present a final group solution at the end of a 45 minute meeting. I sort of took charge of our group time, which I hadn't really planned on doing. The first thing I asked was what each of our areas of expertise were so that we could weigh our opinions in various areas against each other more effectively. We actually had a pretty diverse group. I'm an algorithms buff. The guy to my left was a systems person; the guy kitty-corner, an MIS person; and the guy across from me was a software engineer (interested in the process more than the product). The systems guy was very long-winded and had a knack for quibbling at length over points so small, I couldn't tell the difference between his idea and the software engineer's. But all went well. All four of us had basically the same idea, but embellished in various areas. As for me, my area was testing (since it was mentioned in the directions), and none of the other three had touched it.

A little after that, I had my individual interview in front of four employees, one of whom is the head person of the Washington division. They asked eight questions in a structured interview fashion, almost all of them relating to leading or managing. It's been a while so I don't remember most of them. Sufficed to say I didn't answer them the best I could have, I don't think. One of the questions was, "When was a time where you had to choose between two equally viable options, what happened, and what was the result?" I thought about it for a couple minutes, then talked about my choice to get a MacBook over a PC laptop. It worked out well to get a Mac because I was in Unix that quarter (and required not to use Windows to program) and girls seem to like it.

We had lunch back in the large room where everyone was waiting, some of us done with our interviews, and some waiting to begin. I talked to a girl who was pretty cute from Pennsylvania. I think every guy thought she was cute. If anyone was to get a job, I suspect she would (and not because she was cute). This whole aliasing thing is getting annoying already. I know her first name, but I never plan to mention her again. Why should I make an alias?

I was talking to Doug during lunch, and he said I had ten business days (two weeks) after I received my offer to decide. I had applied to Microsoft at this point, and on one of the forms, gave them a date as to when I would need to know if I had a job offer. It was based on the one-month thing, but I wasn't too worried.

After a presentation on what the ISCFP is, group one headed to the airport. Unfortunately, all my stuff was back at the hotel. They worked it out so that I had another half day at no charge. I don't know whether I have Boeing or the hotel to thank. But thanks ambiguously referenced corporation!

I sat in the terminal for quite some time. I got there at 3; the flight was at 7:45; the plane arrived at 8:30 I think, and left about 20 minutes later. I was going to Denver this time, not Chicago, and my layover was only 45 minutes. A really long story short, I ended up sleeping in Denver's airport. I've been in a few airports. This one was quite possibly the worst for sleeping in. My pillow was with my checked luggage, so all I had was my laptop case and my leather jacket, neither of which served well as a pillow. I got maybe two hours of sleep that night, collectively, and each time, twenty minutes in, or so, I woke up with a very sore neck. The one plus to Denver is it's the only airport I've seen that still offers free wireless internet access, so I was able to facebook a little, and chat with my mom that night.

Last you heard, I was starting to pursue a girl I'll name Fran for no other reason than it was the first name that popped into my head just now. Fran was the first girl I found that really fit the three broad nonnegotiables I set for myself, or rather, for any girl I ever would date (from here out). She sort of hinted a few times during our numerous facebook conversations that she had no intention of dating anyone right now for various reasons. Dumb girl did that a few times (I really need to change that nickname) and so, hoping I had learned my lesson, I asked her straight out if she was meaning to say she would never date me. I realize (present tense) this took any romance that might have been there out of the picture, but it turns out my intuition was right -- that was what she was implying -- and I may have saved myself some heart break. So, I do and don't regret doing it, but I won't do it again. She's a great girl, Fran, but I think the fact that I saw those three nonnegotiables in her made me want to date her more than there being some sort of spark.

I took a flight out of Denver the next morning, decently early, but what is early to someone who took 6 twenty minute naps during the night? For my inconvenience, the airline actually gave me a nicer seat, Economy Plus or something. Leg room is nice. On top of that, there was no one in the middle seat, while I was in the window seat and another guy was in the aisle.

From the airport, my Uncle Orca (aliased, remember) picked me up. His son, whom I'll call William, had played a lacrosse game. Not enough people from the other team had shown up, so he was one of the few who was drafted to the other side. He had a hard time not rooting for his actual team. We also talked a bit about my mom's engagement to a man I'll call Jack, as in Jack Nicholson. Jack's a good guy and all, but there's a general consensus that no one is good enough for my mom. While at my Aunt's and Uncle's, I got an email saying I would receive an offer from Boeing in the next week. I don't think they gave me a number, but I was excited I had a job and called various people, like my mom, sister, and grandparents. From there my (female) CS friend, Tonics (because an alias matters after I've said "female CS friend"), drove me back to Western.

Come Wednesday, I get my call from Boeing. The woman on the phone offered me $54,000 a year. I asked, just to make sure, that I had ten business days to decide, and she corrected me saying I had five. That was a problem. I'd given Microsoft a month and now they had a week. So I emailed one of the people I was in contact with, and she suggested using my negotiation phase to barter for more time. I hate the political hooplah involved in getting hired. Why don't both sides present all their cards at once and then make an informed decision without any thought of "I could have done better"? Anyway, I asked for time until April 4th, and they gave me until March 24th.

I'd been talking with Microsoft this whole time, and they said they could put me in the rushed line and get me an offer by the 21st, if I was to get one, which was perfect, seeing as how that's the day I was leaving for Jamaica. The interview would take place on the 20th. On the 20th was my CS444 (software testing) final. I emailed Reedy and he said I could take it a day early.

My best friend (female), Hime, likes this math major she met in geology (or so I've gathered that's where they met). From what I've heard, he likes her too, but my point is, she invited us (Swood, Gaul, and myself) over to hang out with him, her, and a couple of their mutual friends. He, Daniel, is so much like Gaul that it's creepy, though I get the feeling he only talks like Gaul when they're together, that is, guttural speak. All this to say, that in the middle of an exhilarating game of credit card Monolopy, I left to walk to the INN, because Hime, who is usually my ride, was hosting on the 18th.

I got there a little earlier than most people do, which I believe was right at 9:00, even after missing the bus by half a second. It drove off as I got to the bus doors. Anyway, I sat down and talked to Jim, the pastor there, about my job offers and the like. When we finished talking, I looked around and a lot more of the pews had been filled. I looked back and saw a girl from my Bible study, whom I'll call Donna as in Donnatella Moss, and asked if I could sit with her. A couple minutes later, Minnie, another girl from Bible study whom I knew a little better, came back. She usually sits with Donna. She blinked at me, then looked to where I was sitting, blinked again, and looked back. "The last time I was here you were over there," she said. "Yes, but now I am not there since there are no people in that pew." I had meant that there was no one to sit with, but smart-mouthed Donna said, "That's a very astute observation, that the pew is empty." I love it! From there we went on and on about why it was an astute observation and how lesser minds would estimate ten, even twenty people in that empty row, but not I. I, being black and white, will announce by my convictions that there are no people in that pew. It just went back and forth. It'd been way too long since I'd had a really ridiculous conversation, and she and I laughed all the while.

When I got back, I facebooked her. Within a half hour, I had a message on my wall (now all you stalkers who aren't friends of mine on LiveJournal are going to look at my wall and figure out the secret identity of Donna Moss, just to spite me) saying, "You like the West Wing too?!" And thus began iteration upon iteration of facebook pokes and wall posts and messages.

On Wednesday morning, I had my 444 final. I'd studied about half the slides, and certainly memorized the V-diagram. As a result, I felt quite confident on about half the exam, and after that was about 75% confident. I kept a running tally of about the grade I'd have given myself based on how good I thought my answers were or how confident I was the answer was True or B. I estimated about 91% before turning it in. As I was walking out of the room (since I was taking it early, I was in a room across from a couple of the CS profs' offices), I noticed binders upon binders of course curriculums, including 444's. He put me in a room with every slide presented in the course, though he told me when I pointed it out, that they were slides from last year, rather than this year, but not a lot of the information has changed. Of course I didn't cheat, but I thought it was funny. Today I went and talked to him, wanting to see my final, because I was surprised I got an A in the class, when Bob had told me he got an A-. Apparently I got a 91% before the curve, and after the curve, I had 114% because I actually followed the directions on the last problem and went to town on it. Minor victories get me psyched.

That evening, my grandma came and picked me up, and I took her out to dinner. She drove me to Ichigo's place. He and I watched Bleach, and talked a bit with his parents. In the morning, he loaned me his car so I could get to my interview. (He had a final.) That kid is one of the most generous people I know. It took me an hour to go a 20 minute distance. I made every wrong turn possible, and even a couple right ones I thought were wrong and turned around. Turning around on I-405 during rush hour is not the easiest or best thing to do. (I always wondered why it's I-405 and not WA-405. Doesn't it start and end at places in Washington?) Even after I got to MS's campus, I was at building 88 when I needed to be at 19. That took another 10 minutes and a couple more U-turns. The interview was to begin right at 9:15, and that's when I got there. I had wanted to get there at 8:45, because the email had said that I would have some paperwork to fill out. What they meant was a slip of paper saying which car was mine so they wouldn't tow it. The women at the desk were impressed that anyone would loan a friend their Scion tC.

Everyone interviewing that day was dressed nicely. Most people had donned suits, and the "shabbiest" person I saw was wearing khakis and a nice jacket and shirt. But not I. No, I was wearing a black nerd tee-shirt that said "while(!succeed=try());", and jeans and a leather jacket. The email said they were more interested in what people had to think than what they had to wear. I figured my clothing would tell them what I thought.

The interview was long. First I met with my recruiter for about 10 minutes. She got me into one of their little shuttles and sent me to building 35. Once there, I met with five men, and ate with one of them. Whether they meant to or not, each interviewer asked harder questions, all of them technical. The one that threw me off the most was a mathematical proof.

For any prime number p >= 5, there exists an integer n such that p^2 = 24n + 1. Prove it.

From there, I drove back to Ichigo's and my grandpa picked me up and took me out to dinner to celebrate before going to their house in Burien. We talked about all sorts of things. I had basically decided to take the MS offer, no matter what it was, unless God told me to take the Boeing one in the 16 hours I had to decide. They, however, were under the impression I was leaning toward Boeing (which probably was my fault), and told me they had prepared speeches to convince me not to work for Boeing. Honestly, I think I could have been happy at Boeing, but Microsoft really is a better environment for me. That is, I didn't choose MS because of the money, and if the "compensation" amounts had been switched, I still would have chosen Microsoft. There was a funny story about one of the things we talked about, but alas, I cannot tell it now as it might mess up the space-time continuum. Ask me again sometime, perhaps in a couple weeks. On the way back from the restaurant, they asked if I was excited about the job. At that point, I kind of just spilled. A week or two prior, I had met with Solomon, as I have about two or three times a quarter this year. It became apparent that the reason I've been feeling so dead in everything is that I don't let myself feel because "every time I've put hope in something, I've been let down." So that's the gist of what I told my grandparents, and became the focal point for several conversations we had that night and the following day. It's hard to know how much I agree with because to some point, I think we ought to rely on God for our joy, but a nonbeliever will tell you that you are ultimately in charge of your joy. I think it's a bit of both. At any rate, we had a couple good conversations in the hot tub, my grandpa and I, and the next morning, I went on their daily walk with Biscuit (oh no -- I forgot to alias their dog).

Around noon, my recruiter called me up. She went over what my offer was. There's a lot. A lot a lot, ranging from a $80k starting salary to, my personal favorite, a King County bus pass. That really was the deal-breaker, let me tell you. They have wifi on their busses now. Start work early and get motion sickness! Ridiculous.

That evening, my mom, Jack, my sister and her boyfriend, and Alexander (the Great), met at a restaurant in Burien to celebrate. "This is the last time Grandpa pays," said Grandma. From there, Alex drove me to the airport, and off to Jamaica.

It's nearly one, and I have about 3,000 words left. I'm calling it a night. The exciting conclusion of March tomorrow!