I made a couple of big mistakes in a newspaper advertorial this week. They were so stupid. I got a fact wrong, which was just bizarre because there was no reason why I should have got it wrong. And the other was simply putting down the wrong date. Its worse because in an advertorial they’ve usually paid for it. I’m annoyed at my self and I’m going to go slower and check more for a while. Argh.
So today I ordered a king single bed. I’ve been sleeping on a small air bed thing for a few months and I think it was finally affecting my sleep. It felt kinda weird being my age and getting a king sinlge. When I was asking the shop assistant if there was a big demand for king singles if I wanted to sell it second hand, she said they were popular with teenagers and old men. Not exactly my demographic or desirable groups to be in.
I guess it’s weird to be buying one at my age. Buying a bed was for me a poignant reminer of where I am. A single guy likely to remain single for a while and where I want to be. Buying a king single bed with a special woman in preparation for my wedding night. And maybe that will never happen, but here’s to working on it.
Finding a new church in a new place is kind of difficult. I guess I’ve been lucky in that I’ve never had to do it before. Because I had many problems with my other church I thought I’d walk into a new church and fall in love with it but that’s not the way the search is happening.
The church I went to today was pretty good. Good range of people, good Bible-preaching pastor, good range of music. But there’s other things I don’t like about it. Firstly there isn’t that many people in my demographic (young, male, professional type job) and it’s a Dutch kind of church so there’s a lot of Dutch people (or people of Dutch descent) and it kind of feels like I’m interrupting a big family get together. Not having any Dutch ancestory my self. Like I read the church roster and it was all Dutch names basically.
I went to a Presbyterian church a few weeks ago and I don’t think I’ll go back there. It had about 13 60+ people and another few who would just squeeze under. And it was all old hymns, old type service. But on the positive I didn’t feel weird being a single cause there was no young couples or families with kids.
Another week I went to the Anglican church. It was kinda weird cause I’d done a few stories on it so I felt like I had a conflict of interest or something. It was good though. Lot’s of modern music, passionate people, good range of people. Full church. It’s a bit different to my more evangelical experiences with the dress ups and the way they take communion.
The other problem with the church search is that there’s only one day a week when the main morning service is on. Once you take out morning times I’m back with the parents, and Sundays I work that doesn’t leave many left. And I’ve been to some night services but that isn’t the best representative of a church.
So the new place is going quite nicely. It’s better in almost every way. The people are nicer. In fact I’m getting on really well with both people. Best housemate relationships ever. It’s closer to the centre of town so I walk to walk and walk to the supermarket and I didn’t drive my car for three weeks because I could walk everywhere. It’s in a nicer area no more living in the Bronx. The room is bigger. The house is newer. The people have better dishes and garbage bin habits. The only thing that is not so good is that it is on the main road so that means noise. Trucks at 5am in the morning aren’t fun. And it’s a bit more expensive. But as a friend told me, with accommodation you get what you pay for. So all in all it’s good.
There’s that phrase in the Bible where it goes make your body a slave, and where Paul goes I beat my body into submission so I don’t miss out on the prize. They may both be in the same place. I’m uncertain; I’m without a concordance to check where it says these things. But I’m pretty sure it does. This is about to get a little bit untasteful perhaps but I’ll press on because it was kind of profound to me at the time.
I was walking along a walking/biking/riding track trail near where I live. It’s quite nice and goes through a lot of farming country and it used to be a railway line was. I try to walk it a couple of times a week to get some exercise. (Though with the end of daylight savings I will have less opportunity unless I get up early and that is not going to happen). Anyway this particular evening I was about half an hour from home and pretty suddenly I really needed to go to the toilet. It was that desperate pit of the stomach aching. And I was half an hour walk from home with no toilet between here and there.
So I started making my way back after ruling out using the bushes as temporary drop zones. And for 25 minutes (seeming I hastened somewhat) I beat my body into submission and made it a slave. My mind was in control and though my body let me know it was very, very unhappy my overruling of its urgent need it was my slave. And then when I was thinking about this situation it became clear to me that this was the kind of single-mindedness and overruling of desires, whether physical or emotional, I should be using at many other times.
I’m glad to report I made it back to the toilet and learned (or should I say was given) a valuable lesson along the way.
Sometimes, like today, I feel like I want to go somewhere where nobody knows my name. I guess it’s why I like big cities; lots of people who don’t know me and I don’t know them. I’m not sure why I like and desire anonymity sometimes. Like a week ago it was my turn to work weekends and the local show (or fair) was on so off I went with the mission to get 10 or so good pictures. And I saw a lot of people who I either knew them vaguely or I could recognize them.
Maybe it makes me uncomfortable because I feel I need to perform to meet some kind of standard. And it also leads to that weird thing with people I’m vaguely familiar with: Will I say hello or won’t I? Then after the show I went to the supermarket to get some fruit before sitting at my computer to process the photos and I saw more people I knew or recognised.
I guess it’s part of being a journalist in a small town. There’s lots of people I meet who are highly involved in stuff and they end up in everything. And even as I write this on the porch of my home a guy I vaguely know drove out of the hospital across the road.
So I’m back near a computer I can post from for the first time in a few weeks. So i’ve written some stuff over that time, and longer, which hopefully I will get up on here over the weekend.