At last! I've been waiting to try out google wave since I heard about it. I've seen the video promoting the project, and that the only way I could really understand what the program indented to do.

Just trust me on this one. Here's the video explaining what it is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v_UyVmITiYQ

And here's the actually page https://wave.google.com/wave/

I've just been thinking about what happens when I post something on the internet and some people take it a personal attack. Sometimes I'm not even sure why they're so offended. After all, I might not have been talking about them. The things I say might not even apply to them, so why are people on their guards so much?

I pondered this for a while, and then it hit me: they're so vain, they probably think this post is about them, don't they, don't they?

If you think this post is about you, you would be wrong. This post isn't about any one person. But hey, if you feel like it's about you, you're either genuinely guilty of something or thinking taking the message in a wrong way.

Anyway, I'm tired of the internet soapbox. I want to build a drafting desk of my own design, but I don't know how I could do it. Designing it would be rough since I'm not very good at drawing blueprints. Even if I was a good designer, I don't have the space or tools to construct my project. Maybe I should just remember that all I want to do is make something interesting and realize that I don't actually need it.

And the lord said to the people of America "Freely discard your unborn, for I have made a mistake by allowing inopportune pregnancies. Know that whomever commits murder shall be thrown into the lake of fire but shall be nobler for returning to me the life I have accidentally sent. This is my commandment and promise unto you: Your ends shall justify your means. If you are by your own scales justified, I am pleased. I may send your soul to hell, but I may mistakenly send you somewhere else. If that is what happens, it's my bad. Amen."

This has been a message from your savior, by the authority granted to me by popular sovereignty.

Tank called me this morning with news so incredible, I didn't believe it. Anyone familiar with my life could tell you what she told me at a quarter after eight in the morning shouldn't belong. It doesn't fit the pattern.

However, my initial denial didn't last long, and I was ready to accept that Tank's mom went out and splurged for a whole set of state of the art cookware for us. I can even see how my future mother in law conceived the gift idea. Maybe she was glad that Tank and I love to cook together. Maybe she noticed that I love to make food. Maybe Tank made an off the collar hint that we needed some things for our new apartment. These reasons could have easily tipped Tank's mom off.

I was too excited to go back to sleep, so I just started working on my homework. It's good that I didn't have classes today because I used the extra time to read all the material for my writing class.

My other classes are easy. I have Arabic and introductory algebra. Arabic is easy because all I have to do is learn the basics of a language. My other course, introductory algebra, is extremely easy because it's just so basic. The hardest part of that class is finding the time to finish all the homework.

Writing is a different ballpark though. It's not simply finding answers, which is easy. Writing requires me to create something, and I'm no good at that. I've made a living asking questions, deciding, judging, and finally fix any problems I see using my hands. It's a greasy, grungy job, but the thought process is simple: "Do it."

Creation isn't like that. I'm even at the point where I'm not only expected to assemble essays or reports on a subject, but I better do a damn good job at it. You must polish your mistakes, fine tune your words to fit context, pluck out tiny problems like the rotten apples from a barrel, and do it fast. After that, your work is inspected.

That's not the hard part. Hell, I could inspect work all day and relax, but that's reading, not writing. My job is simply to wait for a verdict. I need to listen to the damage report my paper suffered when thrown in a cage match against Mark Twain and Robert Frost. I'm betting on a cultural reference to the face and a logical thesis to the gut. Then the piece of work curls up in the fetal position like so many other ill conceived literary projects. Left to crawl back into it's corner and then obscurity.

I know it won't stand up, but I'm not saying I won't try for a good well built essay. That's the reason I'm taking so much time to read the material. While I was reading, though, I noticed an interesting tip for proofreading. It told me to look at each word individually, "one word at a time."

At first i didn't understand what it was saying. I thought that was supposed to be how you read, but I guess not. The material went on to say that "Most people can accurately take in only about six letters in one stare, so we are relying on our (not very accurate) peripheral vision to read maybe half a line."

To say this is eye opening would be an understatement. I don't read with my peripheral vision at all. I'm always looking right at the words I'm reading all the time. There is always a voice speaking in my mind when I'm reading. I used to think this made me slow and nothing else, but now I realize there may be an advantage to the way I read. I rarely miss things. That's the very thing that makes me good at inspecting. I'm so slow and methodical that I can't help but notice things, especially when that quality works in tandem with my perfectionism.

All in all, I have to work on my creativity. I might ask Tank how she does this, maybe over a pan of warm lasagna. Sometimes I think I kinda like that sound. Other times I think I'm already there.

So I was thinking of a really cool tattoo design of the Lord Jesus Christ on the cross and extending the base of the cross so that it transitions into the fretboard and body of a guitar. I thought, “oh, that's a pretty cool idea, to express my Christian faith and his influence on the music I write (or at least plan on writing when I get back from the war).”

But I remembered something from a long time ago, and that memory is of a pissed off person viewing a crucifix with an image of Jesus on it. I asked why he was so offended, and he actually told me something that was so weird, it even confounded me (which is either easy or hard depending). What he said was that “It's putting [Jesus] back on the cross.” I knew he wasn't joking about it. He's normally good with jokes, so I knew that this unfunny comment was serious.

I didn't give it much thought at first because it didn't make a whole lot of sense. But years later I still can't make any sense of it. What did he mean? Did he really think making an image of Jesus would cause him to suddenly descend from Heaven and be nailed to a cross once more? That's an awful lot of power for a mortal. I know God moves in mysterious ways, but if it was possible for mortals to re-crucify God, wouldn't God do something about it, like make it not so?

Let's think of other instances where it could be nice to have that kind of power. Imagine you've just been through a messy breakup, and you're looking through your pictures where you and your lover were happy and together. Even more, let's say you paint a picture of you and her together. Does that bring you any closer to them? Do they magically appear from a time when they were happy with you, everything hunky-dory, timeless and everlasting?

Nooo! It doesn't work that way. Your ex is still where they are, pissed off at you, wondering how they could have ever been happy with you, and by now destroyed everything you gave them. If we don't have that much control over another human being, how could we even dream of controlling a deity?

Let's say I'm out of money, really want a pizza, and just happen to have some art supplies on hand. Can I create the image of my pockets filled with money and make it so? Not unless there's an art collector nearby that carries a lot of cash for some reason, like he doesn't trust banks.

Well I guess that rules out the literal meaning of what this guy said, but perhaps there was a more symbolic meaning behind his words. Maybe the image doesn't summon the son of God to Earth, but in our minds it creates an impact. Maybe there's an emotional relevance to the crucifix since I'm sure that if I were crucified, I wouldn't like crosses very much and can understand the emotional hardship.

That's just not the point of the image at all. It's seems pretty obvious to me that it's meant to serve as a reminder of what Jesus did for us. When you're walking down the street on your cell phone taking a mental grocery list, maybe it's not a bad thing that there's a reminder of God's love for you that can fit between your ham and eggs. It might not be a bad idea for a picture of Jesus to pop up every once in a while to make you stop and think “Oh yeah, that's the guy that saved me from eternal damnation in hell. What a great guy. I'm going to think about him for a while now.”

With all that we know the guy that made the comment about the crucifix was just getting offended because they committed a ceremonial faux pas, and he was reacting like a gay interior designer when faced with anything burgundy. It's not something to get worked up about.

For the tattoo itself, I don't know if I would actually get it. I have a lot of tattoo ideas that don't make the grade. I just wanted to clear the stigma just in case I actually go through with the Christ inspired ink.

I don't know where to begin since I'm having a few frustrating issues interconnected with each other. I want to start writing about something, but I keep rethinking my approach, wondering if it's better to start at a different point. Strange thing is I now realize constant assessing is doing me no good. I should just start.

Last night, my roommate checked the mail and handed a letter to me. The letter was from the community college I'd applied to, and it was concerning my financial aid. I needed to read the letter a few times to really understand the idea, but after the fourth or fifth reading, I understood that I needed to fill out some more forms. It didn't seem like such a hard task since the forms were all online. Here is where the problem comes in.

The forms are all on PDF format, and I can't just type in my information. I would have to print it off and then send it to the school. Not a hard task, right? Well I don't own a printer. I know, that's an easy fix. Just go to the Office Depot and buy a printer. You have the money, Grunge. But as much as that makes absolute sense, there's something holding my back.

My fiance owns a printer already. If I bought my own printer, then we would have two printers when we eventually move in together. Where's the problem with that? I would have wasted money on a printer that we as a couple don't need. The burning question I have is when my fiance and I are actually going to live together. We look at apartments, but the prospect is just too scary for her. She doesn't want to leave her dad's place. At the same time she wants to live with me. I guess I'm a problem for her because I don't want to live at her dad's place.

Because I'm a problem, we fight. Both of us lose and go back into our corners to review our passive aggressive strategy. It won't make us any better in the end, but it makes the other person feel worse about your pain than you do. All that is just one of a few drain ports where my enjoyment for life is spilling out. There's no winning, there's only the cutting of losses. Life drips out and then bleeds out and then hemorrhages out. Wait! Didn't my soldier manual say something about this kind of thing? A voice in the back of my mind tells me something. It's my sergeant.

“What do you do with an injured limb that won't stop bleeding?”

I know this one. “You put a tourniquet on it.”

My sergeant nods. “Do it.”

I know this isn't what anyone has come to expect from me, but I have to say, now that I have my freedom back, I've been doing a lot of things that I enjoy more than writing a journal and posting every entry on an internet site fully knowing the only time people are reading is during intervals of possession by Doctor Phil or Opra.

I wouldn't be writing at all right now if it were not for one of my helpful friends pointing out that I haven't been keeping my fan base informed about my daily dirt for a while. So here I am, posting something, anything, to keep my army of faithful cronies from withdrawl from my gems. If I don't, they all might just go to rehab, some of them without internet and then I'd never get them back. So, here's something I wrote in Iraq.

"You know what I'm tired of? Golden Grams. Come on guys, I realized you were working with a low budget when you started making cereal, but you've been in the business for a long time now. When are you going to make good with your promise of grams of gold? I've been buying your product, every time expecting some amount of riches only to find instead a delicious part of a balanced breakfast. What a letdown! If I would have known long ago that this is how it would be, I would have invested my money into a more worthwhile morning meal venture, like omelets. That's right, rich ham and cheese omelet opulence."

Looking back, it wasn't such a funny day.

In other news, I have a whole lot of cool ideas for songs in my brain. I wish I could actually record them, but I've come to find out you need talent to do that sort of thing.

I've been thinking about joining the air force since I found out they need chinook mechanics. Not only do they need them, but they need guys with experience. I've been told that they have such a want for chinook guys that they are willing to pay over 40K in bonuses to any soldier willing to cross over. It sounds interesting.

An IRS agent was meeting with three people who each owed $15,000 in back taxes. The first person he talked to was a Jew. After talking with the Jew, the agent decided he didn't need to pay. The second person he talked to was a Christian. After talking to the Christian, the agent decided that he didn't need to pay either. The third person was an Athiest, and he was excited because he knew the other two didn't need to pay. The agent began pointing out where the Athiest owed, and for all the Athiest tried, he couldn't convince the agent to let the debt go. After a while, the Athiest asked why.

The agent said "Well, the Jew didn't have the money, but offered his only son's college fund, which would have made it imposible for his son to go to college and be successful in life. I was moved by this just as I was moved in the story of Abraham who was willing to sacrifice his only son. In that story, almighty God gave Abraham a ram to sacrifice instead and henceforth the mountain was called 'God will provide'. Now this Jew is willing to give up his sons future, but the almighty government will provide.

"The second person I talked to is a Christian, and he said he couldn't pay. With his bad habits of binge drinking and compulsive gambling, he'd accumulated quite a debt. He then tried to avoid paying his taxes too. All of these things he did are wrong, and he deserves to be in jail. It reminded me of a story I heard that I love. It's about how the wages of sin are death, and since  everyone sins, everyone deserves death. A man named Jesus somehow managed to live a perfect life, but he willingly receives the death everyone earned so that they don't have to suffer. I offered to forgive him, and he accepted."

At this point the Athiest thought and said "Well, what about me?"

The agent then said "What about you? Those great stories come from the Bible. These two believe in it so they would understand. You don't believe in the bible though. You don't believe there's anyone to bail you out when you're in trouble, so why should I tell you otherwise? You owe the government $15,000, and it's time to pay up."

( Cut for lenth )

 This is something I wrote while on deployment. It took a while to assemble the words and phrases to discribe something that I experience.