Sunday, May 28, 2006

peculiar...

Word has trickled down through the ranks that some of my faithful readers have come to believe that some of my blogings are “jokes” or just simply untrue. I.e. living in a trailer or sleeping under the stairs. I am shocked and bemused at this two faced lack of faith in my stories. I can assure you that everything I have written about is at least 90% true…except for the whole dragons in Portland thing—but that was the exception.

I think I have been reading too much of Narnia because I had a dream that I woke up and Aslan was laying on my bed beside me. But in my dream I didn’t see him, it was more a strong sensation that he was laying down beside me but I dared not look lest he wasn’t there. Peculiar feeling really.

My second peculiar feeling was at my first hippy concert I went to with Pam (yey!). After the excellent concert involving bagpipes, barons, drums, and other various 12th century instruments I went and talked to a band member for a short while. Another two guys came to talk making a circle of four people—while the other two were engaged in conversation I looked at the flip flops of the guy next to me-they were the same as mine but a different shape. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed he was my same height, wearing my same shorts but khaki and a similar shirt but white instead of grey. I finally turned to make conversation with him and noticed he was my age and he had my same hair style but blond and his facial expressions looked similar to what I imagined mine were at that time but his eyes were blue. I walked away from that small talk conversation fully convinced that we could be the best of friends. This in less than one minute. Peculiar? Yes.

The school year having ended I feel now is the opportune time to reflect upon my academic year. Talking to the only other Japanese person at the school over a cup of coffee, I believe she used an apt word that I believe sums up my year in Canada—in Japanese this word is “henko”, literally meaning “strange child”. And so in retrospect I believe that this last year has been proof that I am henko. Not just outwardly by living in a trailer or riding a bike to school (apparently riding a bike for non-recreation is an invitation that says “I am worthlessly poor please give me the finger and honk at me”) but also in the Christian culture at Bible College. It seems like bible school is an extension of junior high youth group, the only difference is that people are older and therefore more flowery in their repetitive Christianisms and worship songs. Maybe its some sort of competition—the more Christianisms you use repetitively and the more you cry in worship sessions the more attractive you are to the opposite sex. But the most notable of Bible school eccentricities seems to be a superspiritual belief that verges on mysticism. This kind of mystic belief I have observed seems to allow these people to transcend difficult questions about Christianity, answering them with an air of “questions don’t matter I don’t need my mind so long as I feel”. Which seems to work for them fine, but it’s definitely not my style. So one might say that I am a bit disillusioned by this past year of Bible College. Leading me to one of two conclusions; there is something wrong with them or there is something wrong with me. And because I seem to be the only one to notice these peculiarities among Bible Schoolers, or else I am the only one to voice any abnormal behaviors in relation to them, I have concluded that I am henko—a strange child.
So it has been written, so shall it be.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

office lady!

If you’re anything like me, you’re probably wondering what in Hades I’m doing here these days. Well, even if you aren’t I sure am… but in exciting news I have found a job for a while. That’s right, I am now an official office lady (I got my badge yesterday) for a cruise ship company. So I get to wear a cool headset with a microphone on it and answer calls in front of a computer screen and give people information about how to get to various places in Portland. Which is somewhat ironic given the fact that I just moved to this town 2 weeks ago. I have a suspicion that I may be the first male office lady that has been hired by this company because everyone keeps referring to our department as full of “her”s and “she”s. Although I am not bold enough yet, I plan on politely reminding my benevolent co-workers of my gender…if necessary with my fist. How many girls would do that huh?! Hopefully this job will lift me out of complete destitution and redeposit my financial corpse onto the proverbial “lifeboat” of life.
Yes friends, it was a hopeful time for all of Portland.

Saturday, May 13, 2006

my personal hero

Yes, it was another grey day in Portland when Brent suddenly realized that he had much in common with his personal hero, Harry Potter. For you see, Brent not only shared the same last name, the same birth month, and the same sense of style (the robes, I love the robes), but now their parallel lives took on an uncanny likeness when Brent took up residence in a closet under the stairs. When Brent lay there at night after the light was off but before he dozed off he often wondered what Harry felt like living in a similar residence...and if those giant glasses ever burned his eyes like a magnifying glass when he looked into the sun.
Needless to say, I am now proud to announce that I live in a storage room under the stairs. I call it my "basement suite". I have been looking for jobs for the past week but one can only do that so long that before frying his mind with how much sucking up one must do to get one. It makes me sick and I hate myself more every time I do it, but I suppose it is unavoidable. I'm so bored that I take walks in circles and read the Narnia books for hours--I should read more challenging books perhaps, but Narnia books are so addicting...soo addicting.
In other exciting news it would seem the curse of the certificate of eligibility has finally been broken. In America I have come to realize that one is not credited as of sound legal mind and age until one has attained proficient government eligibility to be regarded as such. In this society I have found the title of Proficient Eligibility to hinge a lot on one thing; a drivers license. Hence the drivers license is the certificate of eligibility-proof that you are of sound legal mind and age. So it is my joy to announce that at the age of 20 and after one year of attempting to attain this certificate I have looked boldly into the face of society and said "No longer shall I be regarded as an infidel for I shall triumph". And I did. Ladies and gentlemen, Brent the Eligible.
Thank you.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Another Day in Portland

One hot afternoon when Brent was admiring the view of the Portland skyline (as he often did when there was so little to do with his time) he caught sight of an odd looking airplane. “that’s odd” Brent said to himself, “for a plane to be flying so low”, but as it got nearer he noticed that the wings of the airplane were moving up and down and that the front end of it had smoke coming out of it. “Oh golly! It must be on fire!” he said in a panicked fright. As it came ever nearer he realized that it wasn’t a plane at all, but was just another stupid dragon menacing the good citizens of Portland. For you see, Portland dragons are a not the typical fierce dragons you read about in story books, no, Portland dragons are much more likely to accidentally fly into a sky scraper or trip over a road sign then they are to do any real damage. Brent watched on while animal control teams tried to entice the dragon away with a giant cardboard cutout of a female dragon hanging from a black government helicopter—the plan seemed to be going well until the dragon lit the female dragon on fire with its flaming breath. The flames of course went straight up beneath the helicopter making a kind of heli-oven from which the inhabitants soon began bailing out of. The poor dragon who thought he had lit his lover (that is the cardboard cutout) on fire began crying giant drops of steaming water into the city streets and making some sort of sound that was so low that it seemed to be causing an earth quake (Brent who was quite well read in dragons knew this sound to be the mourning cry, or distressed dragon sound. The other city folk just thought it was an earth quake).

By this time the firefighters had arrived on scene with their equipment and tried to hose down the beast. Unfortunately for them, this seemed to cheer the dragon up quite a bit for he stopped his horrible earth quake sound (which by now had brought half of Portland down to rubble) and began dancing and playing in the fireman’s stream of water like a child plays in a sprinkler. I say this is unfortunate for the firemen because a happy dragon is more dangerous than a fierce one. When dragons get happy they start to dance, and as dragons are extraordinarily large creatures with odd proportions and little sensitivity to pain they are not much good at staying out of the way of buildings. So as the well intended firemen hosed the dragon, it began doing some rendition of “I don’t wanna be a chicken, I don’t wanna be a duck so I shake my butt, do do do do” and by the time it came to the twirl dance part he was knocking over whole sky scrapers with the left tail movements and as he did multiple “jump tuck and twirls” (rather gracefully as Brent noted) he decimated the whole Lloyd Center shopping mall. It was a funny sight to see crowds of city people and even firemen running away from the dragon like it was some kind of world war one retreat to the trenches.
Another day in Portland.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Covert Wedded Opperatory Intelligence--Moscow

Hanging out with a newly wed couple, an observer cannot but feel a spy infiltrating the ranks of matrimony. But no matter how much enemy information is recorded he cannot but feel as though they will always know more than he. What I am referring to is the international conspiracy of marriage--that which all young bachelors and bachelorets have heard rumors about, but which few, in fact none have experienced. Especially in recent history a matrimonial epidemic has hit our culture and on the front lines of this barrage stands the Christen sub-culture. After reaching the age of eligibility the once sedated flame that kept the hormones tame now run like a wildfires in the streets of Christianville. Indeed the hormones of these young individuals attempt to overthrow the sermon-based cerebral propaganda of abstinence. For this very reason they are the weakest and therefore the first to fall. My friends, do not become another statistic, stand firm all of you. And for the fortunate few who manage to survive this time of trial, a word of invitation (assuming minimum 40 years of age, singleness, meaninglessness, and lack of immediate family) I invite you to consider the following activities that will enhance a meaningful existence and ensure a swift, premature death: 1. Mine sweeping in Cambodia. 2. Standing in front of tanks to protest government things 3. Stage a demonstration for Catholicism in Northern Ireland.

But really, married couples have a secret, I'm sure of it--it is for this reason I have decided to declare cold war on the Marriage Club of Secrecy (M.C.S.), the Underground Society of Matrimony (U.S.M.), and the Covert Wedded Opperatory Intelligence, commonly known as the C.W.O.I. (Headquarters for all global capitalist propaganda and ministers unsurprisingly located in Moscow itself).
It has begun.