If one movie will be better than Little Miss Sunshine this year, it will be Half Nelson. I've been using the adjective "perfect" for Little Miss Sunshine, but by the looks of it, Half Nelson could very well be more deserving of the word. I can't wait.

And just when I was wondering how Paradise Now could have been nominated for any awards last year, I went and watched Tsotsi, and I'm wondering all the more what the fuss is about. It was a disappointment.

It's a beautiful day, and it's been a relaxing one, too. Erica and I have been taking it slow. We continued reading our Madeleine book under a tree at Rockland Park. We went for water ice at Basilio's. We've continued relaxing in our living room, her laying on the couch, me laying on the floor, listening to records and continuing to read.

What do I miss most about college? Simply being in the presence of friends. I miss having people wandering into my room and just sitting with me. It doesn't matter what I'm doing or what they're doing. No pressure to talk, to entertain, to amuse each other, but simply relaxing together, being in the same room. Erica and I had a taste of it with each other, but I was longing for someone else to just come and sit in the livingroom with us. Silence isn't an easy thing to master with friends, and it grows even more rare in the world of adulthood. This is one of the main reasons why I would still like to live in community with friends.

Even when I tell people to just stop by whenever they want--to hang out, to say hello, to relax, to drink a cup of coffee, to do their homework, to get away, whatever!--they either a) don't think I'm making a serious invite or b) think it's an awkward thing to do or c) forget.

When I first listened to Early Day Miners' Let Us Garlands Bring, I knew it was the perfect album. I'm not willing to say it's my favorite album, but it is definitely, without a doubt, the most soothing, comforting, relaxing album I own. Not even the Six Parts Seven can top it. So, that's what's been playing this afternoon, along with their one-sided LP from Burnt Toast. It makes for good afternoons, especially when the summer is coming to an end.

So, hurry. You've got 11 days to come over, lay on the floor, and listen to Early Day Miners with me. Of course, the offer stands even after school starts, but something about the closure of summer makes it all the more enjoyable.

The moon has been big, bright and full the past several nights. Tonight it shines through the window at the end of our hallway, lighting up and casting shadows on our floorboards. The other night I took my brother's kayak out to the middle of Heart Lake after dusk and saw the moon shining through the clouds just over the Adirondack mountains and reflecting on the water. (The nighttime clouds were lit up just like that beautiful shot in Danny Boyle's Millions.) The past several nights, that full moon has been a needed comfort, a reminder of God's presence and working in my life.

I'm down to the two week mark. How is it that there are only two weeks of my summer left? (It always happens, and we know it's going to happen, and yet it still surprises us, and we still insist on commenting to everyone about how quickly time flies.) And so, the panic attacks and mood swings have begun. I am trying to fight them off, but I can only do so much. I am unprepared for this year; sometimes I think it was a blessing to be hired at the last minute a year ago, because if I was hired earlier, I would have spent the whole summer panicking rather than preparing.

Today when driving on Hayes Street, one of the girls I taught last year was crossing the road with several other women. To say the very absolute least, I didn't have a very good relationship with this student, so I tried to hide from her in my car. Somehow, despite being in conversation with her friends, she saw me, even without really even looking at me. As she entered the door of an apartment, she turned and pointed at me with a big smile. I was stunned. I waved to her, the light turned green, and I continued on my way.

Tonight, Erica and I were reminded that our plans are not always God's plans. It's not always a pleasant reminder, especially when we don't understand why he wouldn't agree with or approve of our plans, or when he neglects to present anything better. Our plans seem to work so perfectly, God! What's YOUR bright idea?!

Maybe I'm just afraid he wants me to be a teacher for longer than I want to be a teacher. I'm content with putting in my three years and then moving on to a better (easiersafermorecomfortable) option. Erica's probably afraid of that, too. She can only handle my panic attacks for so long.

Teaching is a much bigger and more valuable opportunity than I often realize. Everyone's quick to tell me about the difference I'm making. I'm quick to laugh at them. But I guess there's some truth to it. (Not much, mind you, but some.)

Why did the girl who hated me so intensely turn, point, and smile?

How did Paul learn to be content in every circumstance?

And why does that big, full moon keep staring at me?

I think I'm going to go for a walk.

Here's a quick update. It's been a whirlwind 4 or 5 days and things aren't slowing up.

Thursday night our modem got fried in a beautiful lightning storm. I haven't had a chance to order a new one yet.

That happened while Erica and I were at a free screening of Little Miss Sunshine. The movie was incredible and hilarious and, unless something really impressive comes along, will probably be my #1 movie of 2006, Neville.

I don't remember what happened on Friday besides a reunion with my roommate, Kyle. It was good to see him.

Saturday was book club and a wedding.

Sunday was church, a tour of the mansion that's for sale in Coopersburg (who wants to move in with us and all of our friends?), and Punch-Drunk Love at film night.

Yesterday was a sweaty day in Philadelphia. We picked up Jamin, visited Erica's old roommates from college, went to Ikea, saw Rata's new apartment, and then made our way to First Unitarian Church to see A Silver Mount Zion. That's a story in itself.

We stood in line, sweating and panting, for quite a long time. Erica and Rata could have really cared less about this show, as it is a band they were completely unfamiliar with, and with the heat and all, they would have been content to go home. Well, when we reached the door we found out the show was sold out. Jamin and I were ready to go home, dejected, disappointed, ready to give up. But that's when Erica's competitive nature and Rata's sense of adventure kicked in. They made it their goal to get us into this show that they would probably, in the end, more or less hate. After about 20 minutes of trying (flirting and begging and sneaking), the guy agreed to let us into the sanctuary. We stood in the back for the first band, and then scored some up-close seats during the intermission. It was unbelievable, really. The show was very hot and uncomfortable, but pretty wonderful and beautiful. A Silver Mt Zion is an aquired taste that perhaps I'll discuss another time. Rata liked them, I think, and Erica liked them before they droned for much too long, and I mostly liked them, and Jamin loved them, and basically we all were just proud of ourselves (proud of Erica and Rata, really) for getting in.

Family vacation in the Adirondacks begins Thursday.

Take care.

a telephone conversation with my niece, taylor:

N: Hello?
T: Hello?
N: Hello?
T: Hello?
N: Hi.
T: Hi.
N: Who is this?
T: Taylor.
N: Oh, hey Taylor, what's up?
T: Oh nothing, I was just calling because I learned two new jokes today.
N: Oh yeah? Great! Let's hear 'em.
T: What?
N: Let's hear them.
T: Ok. Hold on. I have to go ask Mommom. ... Ok. What's purple and goes slam, slam, slam, slam?
N: Hmmmm.....I don't know....what?
T: A four-door grape.
N: I don't get it!
T: I know, neither do I.
N: What's the other one?
T: Ummm, ok, hold on, let me go ask Mommom. ... Ok. What's the best time to learn Judo?
N: Judo?
T: Yeah.
N: Hmmm...I don't know...when?
T: Um, hold on. ... Ok. Fall.
N: (laughter) Fall? These don't make any sense!
T: I know! They're so...(pause and a sigh)...I mean, it says at the top of the paper "favorite jokes," but they just don't make any sense. They're not funny.
N: Well, thanks for sharing them with me anyway.
T: You're welcome.

As promised, I just now completed my first ever newspaper crossword puzzle. It took me close to two hours to finish, and even that was with extensive help from Google, Dictionary.com, Wikipedia, and a new convenient discovery, Oneacross.com.

While this would have been a good summer hobby to pick up back in June, I don't know if I could afford sacrificing this much time every day.

How anyone could finish one of these under two minutes is beyond me. And if I can't handle The Morning Call, how will I ever face the New York Times?!?

Erica and I saw Wordplay tonight, and as is usually the case, we were by far the youngest ones in the 19th street theater. Erica's a good sport, sticking with me wherever I manage to drag her. I'm sure she often wonders how she brought herself to marry such a nerd. Why can't I like sports or something?

Wordplay didn't quite live up to the buzz. I thought it was "cute" and Erica thought it was "amusing." It's borderline intriguing, but mostly just amusing. It didn't have the cute kids of Spellbound nor the personality of Word Wars. Not a whole lot left to carry it, then.

Most of the time it felt like an inside joke that we weren't in on, seeing as how we aren't crossword fanatics. But it's a successful film in that you kind of really want to be on the inside, whether you want to admit it or not. It's definitely fun to hear everyone in the theater whispering the answers to their neighbors.

But we want to be on the inside, alright, so much so that we came home and played a game of Scrabble (Erica won 301 to 258), and I'm already planning to try the crossword in tomorrow's paper.

I'm sure it'll be just a phase. It won't last long. I don't have the patience.

What is it about a person that can make us recognize him after 12 years of separation, those 12 years filled with growth and maturity and entrance into manhood?

Last night we went to play some Chip-and-Putt (which is another nightmare of a story in itself...I don't think I've EVER had a good experience with the game of golf) and I immediately recognized the man handing out the golf clubs as my best friend from first to sixth grade. He moved away after 6th, and I hadn't seen him since the last day of school that year. He looked completely different, obviously. He was a man now, complete with a thick build, facial hair, and several tattoos. But I somehow immediately recognized him. As he took our money and gave us our scorecards, balls, and clubs, I noticed his mannerisms as being the same they were in that little boy's body in elementary school. It was him.

And I couldn't say a word. I was stunned, first of all, as he--my first "best friend"--is someone who has crossed my mind quite often over the years, and how bizarre to meet him here of all places. And what do you say to a best friend you haven't seen in 12 years? We're obviously very different people now. I guess I just didn't want to bother. The whole thing was rather surreal. I spent most of the game freaking out in disbelief that this former best friend I have often wondered about was right next to me. And I couldn't even say anything about it.

I spent most of the game wondering if he had immediately recognized me also, thinking it impossible that he could have, but knowing there is something about people that makes us recognizable, no matter how long it's been or how much we've changed.

Erica and I were recently given Madeleine L'Engle's book on marriage, and we've started to read it together. In the first chapter, she talks about her "inadequacy as a social butterfly." I identified with one line so much so that I wrote it on a pane of glass in the antique windows hanging in our hallway:

"I did not know how to make small talk,
and large talk was discouraged."

It turns out after that long post on the Cultural Mandate and the Great Commission, this past Sunday my dad just happened to start a two-week sermon series on exactly that. He says he's been planning on it for months, but I think we all know the truth.

While I said in that post that the two need to be equal, I've realized over the past few days that the whole post is my way of getting out of evangelism. I say they need to be equal, but I'm only saying that to the people who are turning everything into an opportunity for evangelism. I'm not saying that to myself, who wants only to live my life without having to leave my shell and talk to people. We humans have some pretty tricky excuses for evading the things we'd rather not do.

There's a gem of a verse I recently found in Ecclesiastes, and I think it applies here. It applies just about everywhere, really, and I think I'm going to make it my "life verse" or something.

Ecc 7:18
"It is good to grasp the one
and not let go of the other.
The man who fears God will avoid all extremes"