Because I Can't Get Rid of it

I never use this blog any more, but once in a while I think it's pertinent to update it since I don't want the spambots crawling it to feel totally neglected.

Since I last posted I've finished four books, two of which I've published.

I'm winding down the jayonaboat blog as I'm no longer on a boat, but I'll keep posting some stories related to my continuing time with Mercy Ships there.

jayswanson.me is the place to go for blogs from now on, and vitalischronicles.com is where you can find out more about my books.

Twitter @jayonaboat
Facebook jay.swanson.author
Google+ hibbidy jibbidy

I'm back in France, teaching English and working for Mercy Ships' Swiss Creative Pool as a copywriter/editor. Swing by either of my other sites and drop me a line sometime!

Mercy Ships

Just in case there are some people out there who read this blog but don't know what's going on (or are disconnected from what's happening) you should know that I have a few others that I've kept up decently. This one was really geared more towards my time in France, and I've since moved on to my own self-hosted blogs.

What's up?

I'm joining an organization called Mercy Ships and moving to Africa. You can read about it at my blog Jay on a Boat.

If you want to get caught up on my video exploits and silliness feel free at Live Charge.

Otherwise, this blog probably won't get updated again. Hopefully this breaks no hearts (like the guy who got mad at me for not making more Bi-Polar Bear episodes).

Worst blogger ever

I don't actually stay on top of blogging, I guess because ever since I moved back to the states I haven't felt like there was anything worth blogging about in life. Maybe I should just change my modus operandi. Anyways, can't let June slip by without a blog, and might as well use it to tell you about my sister.

She's pretty spectacular, her name is Kaarin (car-in) and she's an aspiring photographer. She's really, really good and has already started getting recognition from all over, she was even featured on WallBlank a while back.

Her website, kaarins.com, was built by yours truly but really what's so great about it is her photography. Her blog is really the best part, and she actually keeps it up unlike some people.

Anyways, I'm really proud of her and thought I'd share her with the three or four people who drop by here every once in a while.

Also, not sure if I mentioned this earlier but the Live Charge website is up and running, so be sure to check that out if you haven't already. It's been keeping me decently busy, making videos is becoming entertaining for me again. It's always a bit discouraging though to realize how no one will ever find them on youtube or anywhere else. At least our friends enjoy them though =)

Whiskers

This last week was rough already. I got high centered in a giant mud puddle up a logging road in a national forest 10 miles out of cell range for starters. That led to a $466 mechanic's bill and the inability to work for a week (when it was work that sent me up there in the first place).

But then my cat, who we've had for 18 years, started peeing blood and had to be put down. Of course since my car was all torn apart in my driveway I was unable to get to Pullman to say goodbye. Her name was Whiskers, and I figured it was only fitting to pay her some sort of tribute.

I met Whiskers when I was 5 years old at Vacation Bible School at the downtown E-Free church in Pullman. One of the volunteers from the church brought in a new litter of kittens so we could play with them (and inevitably pester our parents into adopting one).

I distinctly remember falling in love with one cute little tabby whose paws were white and had a star on her forehead. She was playful and soft and cuddly, and so of course I went home and begged my parents to let us get her. I'm pretty sure I convinced my sister to help me out, especially considering how rotten our previous cat was.

That requires a little explanation. Our first kitten was a little terror, and I loved it too. Largely because I could sick it on my sister and it would literally run her down and jump on her back. And considering my sister was about 2 years old at the time it wasn't too hard to take her down, even for a kitten. That cat came to a quick end though as it had a bad habit of taking naps in the road. So we were catless at this point.

Eventually my parents relented and called up the lady with the kittens. They had a Volvo station wagon and on the way up our incredibly steep hill the latch released on the hatch and the kittens, all locked safely away in their big kitty-karrier, went tumbling out and down the hill. I guess they rolled all the way down and through traffic, where Blaine meets Grand, and wound up safely on the other side.

Miraculously all but one of the kittens got out without a scratch. When she finally made it to the house the only kitten who had been injured was the one I wanted. In the midst of the chaos the tip of her tail had been dislocated and she was left with a permanent kink. My parents asked if we still wanted her, considering the kink, but I was certain that I did.

When asked what we wanted to name her my parents seemed fairly insistent on naming her Whiskers. We loved the name, and it only later came out that they just wanted to pass our first cat's name (and thus her license) on to our new cat.


And so Whiskers II came to live in the Swanson residence; we would go on to have numerous adventures. She soon became a renowned hunter in the family, bringing back snakes and mice alive, of course, so we could learn how to kill ourselves. Once or twice (probably more than that) my sister and I would let her in with her catch only to have it up and running around before we knew it was still kicking.

My mom soon came up with a rule that we weren't to let the cat in as long as she had any friends with her.

There were things that were distinctly 'Whiskers' as well. When she wanted out she sat by the door and stared at us, yowling if we ignored her long enough (or if she felt like it). When she wanted back in she jumped up into whatever window we could see her from then sat and stared at us until we let her in.

Or yowled at us if we were too slow or she felt like it.

There were spots all over the house that were claimed by the cat though: vantage points to survey her queendom both inside and out, and comfortable plots where she could regularly be found napping. I remember my mom's vain attempts to keep her from scratching the furniture, everything from scratching posts and sprays to custom made covers for corners on the couch. I think she eventually just grew out of it (which my mom was grateful for).


I remember my neighbor Johnny and I playing Vet with her, holding her by her paws and lowering her into the 'holding chamber' that was our hide-a-bed couch. We'd close the bed back over the top of her and decide what disease she had depending on how she yowled at us. We'd also put her on the end of the overhang on our front porch, her perch of doom. We thought she looked cool up there but she usually looked and felt more miserable than deadly at such heights.

We were a lot less cruel to her as we grew up, at least I was. My sister and mom both had episodes of throwing and or kicking the cat across various rooms and sets of stairs. Never intentionally, at least so I'm told, but she was a tough cat.

We knew she was tough when my sister finally convinced my parents to let us get a dog. Misha, a hyperactive Blue Healer/Australian Shepperd mix almost gave the cat a heart attack at first. Who this dog was that had encroached on her domain was a mystery to her, but she did know she didn't like it.

Thankfully for the dog Whiskers had mercy and never beat the snot out of her, though she certainly asserted her place. It was on one fateful day that Misha was headed out to our own Volvo station wagon to go for a ride that a neighbor's dalmation rushed across the street and rammed her under the car like a bolt from hell.

My mom screamed and we ran out, but before anyone could do anything the cat had darted out and positioned herself in between the dogs. That dalmatian didn't know what hit it but was taken aback by the ferocious little furball that had thrown herself into its path. Her standoff gave our neighbor enough time to come and collect it, not without a few scratches of its own.

Not to say that Whiskers ever fully accepted the dog beyond a benevolent tollerance, but she certainly took on Garfield's mentalitly: "no one beats on my dog but me."

When I moved downstairs in our house she would insist on coming into my room and sleeping on or under my bed, even if only for a bit. Often she would climb over me and stand on my pillow, peeking out the window from behind my curtains, her tail twitching as she watched whatever it was that caught her fancy. I usually grabbed the half of her that was still visible and startled her.

At night she'd yowl until I let her in, and more often than not be ready to leave after having inspected my room to her satisfaction. Both comings and goings required that I get out of bed, and I rarely appreciatet it.

Even when I went to college she always knew when I was coming home. It was a rare occasion to come home and not have my cat waiting for me on the sidewalk, yowling at my car and prancing up to me expecting to be picked up and held. She liked to extend her paws over my shoulder and rub her chin against my shirt as I bounced her up and down and petted her back. She would purr and close her eyes as she stretched her neck out and rested her head on my shoulder.

I'll miss her a lot.

The past few months she aged rapidly, going deaf and slightly senile but gaining a different level of curiosity and energy than she'd had before. I actually took some footage of her being old and ridiculous on the piano before she died. She became more of an attention hog in her later years and my parents finally gave in and started pampering her with wet food. She'd been a dry food cat all her years, outside of the occasional mouse.



Of course the dog would sit patiently and wait to lick the bowl afterwards, sometimes not so patiently and would get in there prematurely. This led to the need to put it on the piano bench in the living room for her to eat in peace, which of course led to spills as she would push the bowl in her attempts to finish her meal. My dad learned quickly and started putting books on the other side to stop that from happening.

Slowly she stopped hopping up in windows as much, or running around the house. She wasn't able to hear us coming or calling for her, and she got a little disoriented at times which led to some comical falls from various heights.

One of her favorite spots, an end table looking out over the garden on the side of our house sits empty now. I haven't been home to see it yet, it hasn't fully sunk in, but I do miss her already. She was a good cat, a great pet, and a lovely friend.

I'll miss you Whiskers, rest in peace.

Phone Calls

Sometimes I'm glad people can't see your expressions when talking to you on the phone. I just started working a government job and one of my bosses in particular drives me... well, not crazy, what's that place just south of crazy?

Either way he's annoying; he's like Mr. Rogers' long lost mildly retarded cousin Frank who was kicked out of the family but never came to realize it. I know this is kind of mean, but I was subjected to the longest, most worthless, redundant training of my life for a full week (1 day's worth of training over 5) followed by various patronizing statements over the phone last week.

And as I drove down I-90 trying not to swerve too quickly in and out of traffic I caught myself silently mimicking him in a way that I realized was truly mocking. I felt moderately guilty, only moderately because I thought he deserved it but it hit me that I'm an ass sometimes.

Not that this is a fresh realization, I've known it for a while it's just that the full extent of it... I just found a dead pixel on my monitor... dag blast it.

Anyways I generally think I'm pretty cool so catching myself in those less-than-God-fearing moments is rarely a pleasure. And I'm glad that people can't hear what I'm thinking, or see what I'm visualizing. I've become much more aware of my inner, unbidden dialogue that usually flows between judgmental and psychotic. It's disturbing.

What makes it simultaneously better and yet worse is that I know I'm not the only one. I'm pretty certain that while not everyone could have as screwed up of thoughts as I do all the time we're all a little messed up. At least I hope I'm not the only one. That's why it's only bittersweet though because at the same time I wish I was the only one, then the world would be a better place.

And this is why I'm glad people can't see my expressions on the phone, much like they can't easily perceive my heart or mind. It helps to keep a sense of outward propriety while on the inside I'm battling to be honestly so. I don't want to deceive anyone, but shoot... if you knew what was going on in here I doubt you'd want to be my friend for long. Or maybe it'd help our friendship out in the long run.

The other danger is that I've become much more 'real' and transparent with people almost to a fault. If I'm having a bad day I won't really hide it, but that doesn't give me the right to be rude. Life has so much balance to it and I'm so frequently in danger of sliding one way or the other that I'm surprised I haven't just been torn in two and allowed to slide both ways simultaneously.

As long as the cameras on phones face away from the ear piece I should be fine.

And speaking of phones (p.s.) I've released two new videos as of late both involving light sabers and iPhones. iSaber Battle 1 and iSaber Battle 2. Enjoy!

In between

It feels like I regularly find myself in between things in life. Right now I'm in between jobs, hoping that the Lord provides something for me soon. So far He's been more than good to provide for my needs, so I'm not really all that worried. I guess I'd just like to gain some forward momentum.

I'm working on a portfolio website, but I don't really think graphic design is what I want to do with my life. I like building websites but that's not it either. I've always loved making videos but the passion that drives that comes and goes in spurts.

We'll see where I end up. In reading Chambers and praying and thinking I'm realizing that God's calling and my response are really two different things. God calls me to relationship with Him, to follow Him into the thick of things and discover Him for who He is.

How I choose to live my life for Him is really a natural expression of who He made me to be. Often I think we confuse God's call with what we should do vocationally, but I do think they're distinctly different. God's call isn't to do stuff for Him, but to be with Him.

Our reaction to the overwhelming love we experience will certainly be to do something, but that's a separate though not unrelated issue. Whatever I feel most joyously satisfied to do with and for the Lord will be a good response to His love, but the response to His call is to simply be with my Lord and find my all in Him.

Not that all of this makes complete sense to me yet or that I have my answers, but I'll get them soon enough if I just hang on to Jesus for dear life.

I don't get me

So I haven't written a real blog in a long time, this has been more a portal for keeping up with my videos and such (which there are quite a few of now, 10 up on youtube as I write this). I don't know if anyone regularly checks this thing any more, especially since the more perilous aspects of my journeys would seem to be taking a break.

I may not be living in Mafia infested territory, with prostitutes chilling on my corner or cars burning outside my bedroom; but life certainly seems perilous in other ways.

It's interesting how the sights and sounds, smells and sensations wrapped up in my time in France still come back to haunt me. The smell of cigarettes now reminds me so strongly of Europe, lying in bed with my sliding door open as cars ran by and pedestrians smoked in the day, hookers puffed their long stemmed cancer sticks at night.

Things back home have been good, if not bumpy. I returned to no job and no real source of income. God's been gracious to provide a great job for me (and a not so great job I had to quit because apparently I have these things called "morals") and I'm living in an awesome house with good friends in north Spokane.

But I don't really get myself. To be somewhat poetical I feel like I'm pursuing a destination, something for which I have a Holy Discontent and for which I was made. The journey to this place, however, is only the beginning as far as I can tell; and I'm not sure if it's that open ended nature of reaching what I now see as my goal that scares the crap out of me or if I'm just overtly confused.

Probably both. I'm charged, I have to get there, it was placed in my bones to live in this place and my marrow sings whenever I approach it. But the energy by which I am propelled closer to it somehow manages to drive me further from it as well. I'm drawn to it and it is simultaneously repelled by me. I don't get it, I don't get me.

There's a great level of mystery behind it, and how it interacts with my mind. I'm content where I am, but I know I won't be forever, and even if I'm content here there's a part of me that never will be. It's a Holy Discontent, something I believe God placed in me and something I'll spend the rest of my life pursuing. Even when I get there I won't be there, I won't be finished. I'll have to explore, to search, to conquer in a way or I'll go utterly insane.

And yet it's the one thing I can't conquer but must give itself to me, and must be something God brings me into. It's cyclical, repeated, I get closer and farther; more confused then incredibly lucid.

Oh well, so it goes. I try to break the cycle and end up broken, I try to fall deeper into it and end up crushed. The beauty of Christianity is often found in it's wonderfully, if not precariously balanced paradoxes. It seems I've found myself in one of those and like an eddy in a river I'm stuck swirling around until God comes along and plucks me out.

I suppose I should be learning something while I'm here. Eddies suck, whether rafting a river or braving spiritual waters.

In the meantime I'll just make videos and music and enjoy Jesus and friends. I've been blessed with so much, I'll be grateful for it all eventually. Until then I'll just focus on Jesus and try my best to follow Him one step at a time. There are no better, more valuable, more privileged options than this.

Enjoy Marshal Cane, the greatest Action Trailer to hit the internets since cold pie.

Nesquik contest entry - by Live Charge

We just finished our entry into the Nesquik Youtube contest. We hope to do well, but there have already been technical difficulties and my luck with contest entries has been less than exemplary.

Nesquik Contest Entry


by Live Charge

Satan's Seat - a skit by Live Charge

A new video by Live Charge! Enjoy!

Satan's Seat


Enjoy!

The Nerddom Begins

The latest video by Live Charge, not actually a music video for once. It's got castles and geeks, and it's finals week. Hilarious. Not to toot my own horn ;)

Mexidate - a Music Video

Music video # 2, Mexidate. A story about a guy who took a girl out for mexican on their first date, and regretted it shortly thereafter.


Live Charge

Photonym

A ridiculous rap about photography... and photology... and photogamy? Gotta check it out.

read more | digg story

Winding Down

Alright, so I finally have a few minutes to sit and write. Hopefully my intrawebz work long enough for me to get this uploaded. Two weeks ago my friends Mike and Simon came to visit which was nice, we visited all the local spots along the Riviera and I tried to take as many photos as I could for Mike (who sadly didn't have a camera).

We had some good talks, the weirdest of which was Simon's certainty that in the near future no one will use planes and that we'll all travel by boat. He's weird but hey, he's still cooler than crap.

To make life busier I've started my masters program at Whitworth so I'm already swamped with work there, my first paper is due on Friday. I also finished work yesterday, which was classic because 2 of my 3 classes were canceled for tests. True to form.
Sadly I didn't get to say goodbye to a few of my classes, but apparently they figured they'd take the initiative on that. I'll post their letters here for you to see, I thought they were pretty "sweet."

I hope you guys can read all this. Point is: they liked me =)Sorry for the brevity of this post, I have to go pick up my parents from the airport now which is super exciting. I can't believe my time here is almost finished, it's insane. I look forward to spending time with my folks though, it's their first time in Europe. We'll be headed to Paris in a week and then after that I'll be in Dublin, but hopefully I can get on here occasionally. Whelp... better jet. Peace!

Condensed non-exhaustive version of my thoughts

(The following is why I haven't written a blog in a while, and another will come out soon chronicling the recent visit of some friends)

Sometimes it’s not so much a matter of getting accepted into something as whether or not it’s what you feel you should be doing. I’ve had no clue for the longest time.

I’ve been thinking about starting my Masters at Whitworth for a while now. Rob asked me to go to a meeting at the University in the spring of last year to “show support,” but if that was really his goal in pushing me to go I’d be surprised. Regardless he did say that he thought it would be good for me, and it did sound intriguing at the time.

I like to learn, and there are few things in life I’m more passionate about in regard to learning than God and His Church. So in some ways it seemed the perfect fit, start a Masters and have a blast. To top things off my dad will be doing the program and I really miss spending time in the Word with him. He’s to thank for most of my early life as a Christian; without his guiding hand in my life I’d be nowhere near where I am now.

Which, the more I get to know God, isn’t nearly as close to where I should be; but we do what we can and we are where we are by the grace of God. And God’s grace was displayed effectively in my dad.

I’ve been wrestling with the idea of going to Whitworth for months now, starting back in March when I applied and continuing until today. I’m not sure why I struggled with it so much, largely due to the amount of debt I’ve accrued already while in school I think.

Ultimately I came to the realization that I wasn’t trusting God to provide for me. Kind of waiting for Him to say He would when He already has (Proverbs 10:3, Matthew 6:28-30, or Luke 12:28). And although yes, I should be working, I’m going to have to work either way so why not take advantage of the opportunity in front of me while I can?

Granted it will be tough doing both; however when have school, work, and ministry been an easy combination? Rarely - if ever - in my experience, so what’s to make me think that I should be able to find an easy path now? And if it does prove too hard hopefully I can scale back a bit on my course load.

This is a chance to grow personally, to find new opportunities to serve, and to feed the community that has given me so much in new and hopefully profound ways. It’s a chance to spend time with older wiser men, to learn more about the Lord and his Bride than I ever have before, and to be challenged and hopefully pushed beyond where I would have gone on my own.

Speaking of challenges, my first paper is due on May 2^nd; I’d better get to work.

You know what ELSE sucks?

NOTHING, frickin' nothing.

No let's be honest, a lot of things suck but life's too good to justify complaining as part of me would like to.

It's just that sometimes I want to throw a chair and kick some ass

and so I put on some crazy angry music and dance around

by dance I mean kick invisible ninjas and punch vikings in the face.

And I find myself wondering why the hell I'm so pissed?

Is it the lack of certainty in my future?

The loneliness I often feel?

Is it the life-long crush who knows not that I exist

or the fact that the songs I write fall flat on my ears?

Could it be the slow death of Christendom, and how I'd love to hasten it?

Or could it be the lack of passion in God's children to join me in the beating?

I don't get drunk but sometimes I'd love to just so I could go on a bloodlust of rampant theological GARRRRR!!!!

I can't even express how I feel in English! I just want to yell and punch and kick and throw knives at passers by so they'd know how I feel!

I'm not all sad, but I'm not all mad. I'm not all happy or horny or depressed or pissed or passive! I'm all of those things and none of them! I'm a ball of energy and I want to let it out!

So I'll put on some crazy angry music

and I'll kick the air

and someday someone will understand how I feel...

just hopefully not because I kicked them in the solar plexus. Good spot for a kick though.

JESUS IS LORD! And thankfully He puts up with my mood swings, uncertainties and passionate throw-downs of the mind. I'm not perfect, never claimed to be and hopefully rarely think I am. But He is, and His love is good and it's all I need. I just wish it was sufficient for me, because it could be if I only let go of the things that are driving me mad.

Screw it, I'm hopping mad and I'm not sure why. I'm tired of sluggish consumer Christians who claim Christ on Sunday mornings and forget He exists the rest of their week. May I never be that, may I be anything but that. I want to change the world and see people freed and redeemed and loved and held onto tightly. I want the world to know that Jesus is Lord not so that they'll join my 'club' or feed off my ideology, but so that they can LIVE!

So that they can feel this mix of emotions that I feel, that we all feel, and know that it's good. Know that it's a part of life, part of the process, and that sometimes we need to get pissed off at what's wrong and broken and even EVIL in the world. Passivity is for pansies, and he who hides his anger is a liar (check the Proverbs on that one).

So let's get angry at all the wrong things so we can be content and at peace with the right. Let's bring passionate love back into style, not lovey-dovey hugs and kisses where people don't confront each other when they're hurting themselves or others. Love isn't always pleasant, but it always prevails and is always worth it. I'm not even gonna read back through this or edit it on the off chance that someone reads it and decides to do something to change themselves and the world that they live in.

You have no idea how often I just write like this only to delete it; well now I lay my vulnerable self at your feet. Here's a peek to the two people who read this of what I'm truly like. I'm gonna go kick some ass and change the world, you can stick to your comfort and easy life if you want; I'm leaving, come with if you like.

You know what sucks?

European Coke cans weigh more so I always think I've got more Coke left to drink than I really do. It's depressing.

Video Games

I figured I'd post one last time before March is up. I was thinking about just how fast paced life back home is compared to here for me and ended up writing out my thoughts some. I don't know how much sense it'll make to everyone but, meh, as long as it somehow makes sense to someone.

Again I'll throw in random photos you may not have seen yet. Enjoy.
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I often wonder if our consumerist society is having a negative effect on our souls. Video games are a great example (but we could talk about clothes, cars, blenders, you name it). We find ourselves always wanting more of what we already have, craving the newest and greatest thing. The video game industry is practically designed to pray on this.

Every year new improvements are made to hardware capabilities, moving even faster than the coding of the software to utilize it. Thus new games aren’t just ‘new’ in the same sense that a new book is ‘new,’ they’re vastly improved in a number of areas.

It’s said Shakespeare wrote all that could be written, but no one has even imagined what video games are capable of yet. And so we keep coming back for the newest improvements, whether that's better graphics, sound, playability or a random novelty (like the Wii’s controllers, seriously people, one-trick pony). Of course even those random novelties are only the beginnings of potentially greater things.

And so we’re constantly moving from one thing to another: one console to the next, an old wardrobe for a new. The most ridiculous might be the way we have new models of cars every year; the manufacturers rarely make vast improvements. When I bought my car I read that between 1990 and 1992 Honda had made a seatbelt adjustment on the Accord. That was the major difference between the three models (they might have changed the headlights too, but I can’t remember, the seatbelt part blew my mind).

Similarly so many people are constantly adopting new spiritualities until they need something more, something new. And so the Christian tries some Buddhism, the Buddhist tries some “new” Hinduism, the Hindu converts to Islam, and the Muslim tries his hand at “Science.” We mix, we match, we choose parts of religions that appeal to us and construct something that from the outset is certain to meet our spiritual needs.

But when that fails to meet our needs, where do we turn? Ultimately there are only so many spiritualities to try, so many combinations to make. You could make your own; but someday in a moment of honesty you’ll know that it was self-made. It doesn’t transcend your soul.

And are we just being fashionable? Is the contentment of putting on of a new religion similar to the excitement of wearing a new coat? Fitting perfectly today only to become raggedly insufficient tomorrow?

If we have this hole in our hearts that is constantly crying to be fed mustn’t we assume there is something out there that can sufficiently fill it? If not I suppose there’s no point to spirituality as all of them will fall maddeningly short of fulfilling. And besides, that can’t be because to give up would be to forsake all hope and admit that we are horribly incomplete and can never be made whole.

We need something stable, something true. We need something that will not only continue to feed and grow us throughout our lives, but to do so in increasingly deep and meaningful ways. If it doesn’t continue to open up new worlds and impart greater truth into our lives as we grow and meet new struggles then it won’t suffice. We need something more than the mundane, the ritual, we need God Himself to come in and transform us.

We need God to make us what He intended for us to be before the world went awry. And we all have a sense inside of us that it is in fact awry. Things certainly don’t seem to be getting better, at least overall in the big picture (even if my beard is getting longer and thus making me more handsome).

I’d challenge you to find whatever the Truth is and to hold onto it. Don’t settle for less. Don’t settle for a dissatisfied state of existence; even though finding the Truth will always leave you hungering for more you’ll also find yourself incredibly content. Hunt down that contentment and dive deeper into it. It exists, and it’s wonderful.

EXPLODING CARS!

I was almost in an exploding car today. Before heading to Nice from Grasse, Vincent “topped off” the car’s oil. I say “topped off” in quotations because he put waay too much oil in. And by way too much I mean he was on an incline and guessed he put between 5 and 10 liters in... so the pressure went crazy and the engine started to pour out obscene amounts smoke while we were driving on the highway.

It was more smoke than I've ever seen, and then the engine started revving really REALLY high on its own. He put it in neutral and it just kept revving and screaming in the most insane manner. He even turned the ignition off and removed the key and it kept going and going despite.

So finally we pulled over and jumped out, I had to pull the baby out (hero moment) but after I'd already taken my stuff to the bottom of the ditch (not so heroic). I got down there and realized they weren't coming and was like "oh, they can't get out on their side of the car... hmm..." so we had to hurry. There was a sense of panic but we got down and felt a lot better being at a distance from the car.

Three fire trucks and some police later the car got towed and we got a ride from another friend.

Crazy day.

Fun Times

Just to give you an idea of how awesome my school is...

the other day I was sitting in the teacher's lounge at my school reading a bit of National Geographic with my ear buds in when one of my teachers, on the computer at the time, freaked out and jumped. I looked up to see a pigeon flying in and resting on one of the book cabinets.

Not sure what was up I opened another window, took the crate and shook the pigeon gently until she flew out of the room. As I carried the crate, however, I realized there were twigs poking out of the holes in the bottom. Further inspection led to the realization that there was an egg in the crate as well.

I went back and took photos the next day, letting the pigeon back in so I could get some photos of it. It was awesome. Video too, expect that later =)

Finally!

So five years ago my buddy Erik and I had the great idea to create a cartoon based off of a joke made by one of our high school teachers. Five years later I've scrapped the idea of making an animated Flash cartoon and have just decided to start drawing it. I got tired of waiting.

I ALSO can't wait to post the two I've finished until more than a day have passed. So I'm gonna just go ahead and do them both. I think I'll try to release a few a week as time goes by. In case you're wondering I created a whole separate blog for it. I'm hoping to slap together a website when I get home to host it, but until then blogger gets the honor. So check back regularly to see how things go.

Just be warned that the www.worldsworstsuperhero.com url will be redirected to that blog soon. You'll have to get to this one through the direct link (http://perilousjourneys.blogspot.com) after that. Just in case you were wondering that's why I bought the domain (worldsworstsuperhero) so long ago. It's not because I'm a terrible superhero, I'm pretty good actually.

Oh, and feel free to leave comments on the comics. You don't have to have a blogger account and I'd love to know what you think. The history of the comic is posted in the first post, the comic in the second. I'll put up the second comic here in a minute. ENJOY!