My parents are out of town this weekend, but while they're camping, they wouldn't dare miss mass on a weekend. As such, my mom has been texting me incessantly, making me look for Catholic churches in small towns around Sacramento. She's trying to find one on the way to the campsite.
She first asked about Williams, CA, then Dunnigan, then Colusa. When I finally found one in Colusa, Our Lady of Lourdes, I sent her the schedule. Knowing my parents well, I made a mental bet with myself that they would not have been down for the 10:30AM mass Sunday morning.
Regardless, I called Our Lady of Lourdes, just to double check the mass schedule. Most parishes have automated machines, but being a small parish in a small town, I didn't expect Colusa to have one.
I was right, and a kind lady picked up and informed me that mass was actually at 5PM and 10AM, meaning my parents definitely will not be visiting Colusa anytime soon. The lady also told me that the 10AM mass was Father Roy's last mass, so that made me scared that my parents would inevitably show up underdressed for a special mass. Thankfully, my mom then asked me to search for a church in Willows. God is definitely shining on Father Roy this weekend.
I find one in Willows, St. Monica Parish, and called them as well. It's a bit annoying how the online schedules aren't right. Well, I see the priest's name, Father Matthias O'Callaghan, and I thought, typical; an Irish priest. Then I thought, hey, I could have fun with this. I mean, they're never going to talk to me again, right? Why don't I ask them in an Irish accent? I could pull it off and they wouldn't know any better. Plus, it would make for a great story. What could go wrong, right?
Well, first, it was an automated machine that answered my call, so that killed my plans. However, the second revelation was much more plan-killing.
The voice on the machine had an Irish accent.
Oh, God of Irony, why do you mock me?
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Cosmic Satisfaction
Two weeks ago I got a new wallet because my old one was really gross. For those who don't know, I like to keep all my receipts and all my old cards in my wallet, thus making for a rather cluttered trifold.
A few minutes ago, as I was cleaning my room, I stumbled upon a combination lock. I recognized it immediately as the same one I used nearly 3 years ago in lab for general chemistry. For years I've had this lock, and being the packrat I am, I have not had the heart to throw it away. However, I've never been able to remember the combination either, so it has always served as a memento more so than as an actual lock. My dilemma was that I had nowhere to put it, now that I was home and lacking a desk with drawers to hide my hodgepodge of personal memorabilia.
Then I remembered something, something that, if correct, would be cosmically satisfying. In my old wallet, I always saved the little piece of paper that came with the lock, which had the combination. I saved it at first in case I forgot my combination, but even as the original use went away, I kept the paper.
It first was used scratch paper, as I wrote down the combination of my lock for second semester's lab. I also wrote down my registration code, at the behest of my adviser, Dr. Vierra. He wanted me to stop coming to him because I kept forgetting the code. However, both these numbers quickly outgrew their usefulness. Thus, I had no reason to keep the small, folded paper for longer than a few months.
But I did.
And as I skipped down the stairs in anticipation, I fumbled through the mess I made on the coffee table a few weeks ago when I transferred all my stuff to my new bifold wallet (for the record, both pictures accurately portray my actual wallets, oddly enough). Looking through the clutter of faded receipts and worn-down plastic cards, I found the lock combination-turned-scratch paper.
I kept the paper on my thigh as I sat down, joyfully waiting for what I hoped would be cosmic satisfaction. I try the three numbers printed in bold on the front.
They didn't work.
I opened it up and tried the second set of numbers I wrote down.
They didn't work.
I reread the directions and tried those second set of numbers again.
They didn't work.
I tried the first set of numbers, knowing full well that this would be my last option, my last glimmer of hope to open a lock that's been closed for three years.
They worked.
Cosmic satisfaction achieved.
A few minutes ago, as I was cleaning my room, I stumbled upon a combination lock. I recognized it immediately as the same one I used nearly 3 years ago in lab for general chemistry. For years I've had this lock, and being the packrat I am, I have not had the heart to throw it away. However, I've never been able to remember the combination either, so it has always served as a memento more so than as an actual lock. My dilemma was that I had nowhere to put it, now that I was home and lacking a desk with drawers to hide my hodgepodge of personal memorabilia.
Then I remembered something, something that, if correct, would be cosmically satisfying. In my old wallet, I always saved the little piece of paper that came with the lock, which had the combination. I saved it at first in case I forgot my combination, but even as the original use went away, I kept the paper.
It first was used scratch paper, as I wrote down the combination of my lock for second semester's lab. I also wrote down my registration code, at the behest of my adviser, Dr. Vierra. He wanted me to stop coming to him because I kept forgetting the code. However, both these numbers quickly outgrew their usefulness. Thus, I had no reason to keep the small, folded paper for longer than a few months.
But I did.
And as I skipped down the stairs in anticipation, I fumbled through the mess I made on the coffee table a few weeks ago when I transferred all my stuff to my new bifold wallet (for the record, both pictures accurately portray my actual wallets, oddly enough). Looking through the clutter of faded receipts and worn-down plastic cards, I found the lock combination-turned-scratch paper.
I kept the paper on my thigh as I sat down, joyfully waiting for what I hoped would be cosmic satisfaction. I try the three numbers printed in bold on the front.
They didn't work.
I opened it up and tried the second set of numbers I wrote down.
They didn't work.
I reread the directions and tried those second set of numbers again.
They didn't work.
I tried the first set of numbers, knowing full well that this would be my last option, my last glimmer of hope to open a lock that's been closed for three years.
They worked.
Cosmic satisfaction achieved.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Dreamlog
I think I'm going to start posting my dreams on my Tumblr. It'll be an exercise in the bizarre and uncomfortable, and I think it'll be extremely interesting.
I was in the library at Pacific, but as is the case in some dreams, it wasn't set up exactly as the setting in "real life." In fact, this library seemed to double as a dormitory of sorts. There were bathrooms with a few sinks where some of the study rooms would be on the second floor. Down the hall, if you're walking with those study rooms on your right hand side toward Dave Brubeck, are tables. Except in my dream, these tables also had computers and were formed in an L.
I was just "getting settled," meaning I had scoped out a place and put my stuff there and started walking around, chit-chatting and making small talk to my studious companions. But very noticeably, I was getting no studying done. The majority of the time, I was just kinda exploring this dreambrary. I felt a lot of emotions, too. I encountered people I didn't know, as you do sometimes at the library, and as a mimicry of reality, I ignored some of them and talked to some of them. It was surreal and realistic simultaneously.
In my dream, Craig was about to get some Taco Bell, a common late-night run when people are studying all night at the library. It was well after midnight. Then, as I was sitting with all the AXΣ people, a bunch of KΨ kids were being loud, just beyond the bookcase. We all turned our heads and got annoyed.
Now, this is a common phenomenon at the library in real life, too. When a group talks and all of a sudden the all get mad that another group is talking. It is extremely hypocritical, and altogether hilarious in my opinion.
But these Kappa Psi kids were being disproportionately loud. This wasn't some amusement park. Obviously, I was in my sweats and turned around to mug them. They couldn't quite see us because they were over yonder bookcase, but a few of them walked out to the side and saw all of us looking at them. Naturally, we outnumbered them and they were silenced by our intimidation factor (yeah, right).
Then later on, someone came over and got mad at me for some reason I can't remember. I don't even know what I was doing with the group of AXΣ people. Again, my spot was elsewhere, and I was just loitering (another uncanny resemblance to reality). This guy grabbed my collar and I exclaimed angrily, "Get your fucking hands off me!" making sure everyone heard. He see that I have drawn attention and lets go.
At this point, I think I am half-awake, because as he lets me go, I walk away, only to turn around and get him in a headlock and smash his face on the desk. Then I orchestrate a fight. I know I wasn't fully asleep because I kept changing the scenario in my head. In one case, I grab him by the ears and drag him to a security officer. Then I tell my sleeping self that there's a lot of anger and that I need to calm down, so I do. That's when I wake up.
The first thing I noticed was my empty wall. Then when I turned to see the other side, I looked at my frogs, Kermit and Miss Piggy. I noticed something was floating in the tank, though. I wasn't scared, because if it was a frog, it would definitely have been bigger.
I walked over to see what it was, and to my dismay it was a bubble that didn't pop. I wondered why the bubble hadn't popped yet. Then I looked at my frogs. One of them looked really pale, and so I thought to myself, "You must not be getting enough sunlight." Then I thought, "How come the other one isn't pale?"
My heart sank.
I opened the lid, tapping the sides, knowing that it usually scares them into movement. It's how I let them know I'm about to feed them every 3 days or so. One of them flits off haphazardly, but not quite as quickly as he usually does. the other one just stays still.
"Hey!" I called out, hoping vainly that my voice would waken him. "Hey!" I called out again. I felt stupid, yelling at a dead frog. The bubbles were still unpopped.
I changed the water in the tank and flushed Kermit down the toilet. Miss Piggy seemed a little sluggish but wouldn't eat. I want to think it was sadness, but more likely, it's probably because those same conditions that made it impossible for Kermit to survive are making it difficult for Miss Piggy to survive.
I changed the water and put the lid back on.
I was in the library at Pacific, but as is the case in some dreams, it wasn't set up exactly as the setting in "real life." In fact, this library seemed to double as a dormitory of sorts. There were bathrooms with a few sinks where some of the study rooms would be on the second floor. Down the hall, if you're walking with those study rooms on your right hand side toward Dave Brubeck, are tables. Except in my dream, these tables also had computers and were formed in an L.
I was just "getting settled," meaning I had scoped out a place and put my stuff there and started walking around, chit-chatting and making small talk to my studious companions. But very noticeably, I was getting no studying done. The majority of the time, I was just kinda exploring this dreambrary. I felt a lot of emotions, too. I encountered people I didn't know, as you do sometimes at the library, and as a mimicry of reality, I ignored some of them and talked to some of them. It was surreal and realistic simultaneously.
In my dream, Craig was about to get some Taco Bell, a common late-night run when people are studying all night at the library. It was well after midnight. Then, as I was sitting with all the AXΣ people, a bunch of KΨ kids were being loud, just beyond the bookcase. We all turned our heads and got annoyed.
Now, this is a common phenomenon at the library in real life, too. When a group talks and all of a sudden the all get mad that another group is talking. It is extremely hypocritical, and altogether hilarious in my opinion.
But these Kappa Psi kids were being disproportionately loud. This wasn't some amusement park. Obviously, I was in my sweats and turned around to mug them. They couldn't quite see us because they were over yonder bookcase, but a few of them walked out to the side and saw all of us looking at them. Naturally, we outnumbered them and they were silenced by our intimidation factor (yeah, right).
Then later on, someone came over and got mad at me for some reason I can't remember. I don't even know what I was doing with the group of AXΣ people. Again, my spot was elsewhere, and I was just loitering (another uncanny resemblance to reality). This guy grabbed my collar and I exclaimed angrily, "Get your fucking hands off me!" making sure everyone heard. He see that I have drawn attention and lets go.
At this point, I think I am half-awake, because as he lets me go, I walk away, only to turn around and get him in a headlock and smash his face on the desk. Then I orchestrate a fight. I know I wasn't fully asleep because I kept changing the scenario in my head. In one case, I grab him by the ears and drag him to a security officer. Then I tell my sleeping self that there's a lot of anger and that I need to calm down, so I do. That's when I wake up.
The first thing I noticed was my empty wall. Then when I turned to see the other side, I looked at my frogs, Kermit and Miss Piggy. I noticed something was floating in the tank, though. I wasn't scared, because if it was a frog, it would definitely have been bigger.
I walked over to see what it was, and to my dismay it was a bubble that didn't pop. I wondered why the bubble hadn't popped yet. Then I looked at my frogs. One of them looked really pale, and so I thought to myself, "You must not be getting enough sunlight." Then I thought, "How come the other one isn't pale?"
My heart sank.
I opened the lid, tapping the sides, knowing that it usually scares them into movement. It's how I let them know I'm about to feed them every 3 days or so. One of them flits off haphazardly, but not quite as quickly as he usually does. the other one just stays still.
"Hey!" I called out, hoping vainly that my voice would waken him. "Hey!" I called out again. I felt stupid, yelling at a dead frog. The bubbles were still unpopped.
I changed the water in the tank and flushed Kermit down the toilet. Miss Piggy seemed a little sluggish but wouldn't eat. I want to think it was sadness, but more likely, it's probably because those same conditions that made it impossible for Kermit to survive are making it difficult for Miss Piggy to survive.
I changed the water and put the lid back on.
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