For you, Lord.

Yes, folks, I made it a year. Today at 2pm marks one calendar year I have been in the Dominican Republic. A look back...

- Students I've lived with: 28-30

- "Cool" things I've done that I wouldn't have done were I not here: 38 (see November 21st for the list)

- Money I've spent on my credit card: ~$5,000

- Girls I've dated: 0

- Girls I've been interested in: 4

- Books read: 10-12...Best one: "The Jesus I Never Knew" by Phillip Yancey

- Crosswords completed: 12-14

- Times I've cried: 3

- Times I've raised my voice in anger: 1

- Sick days: 1.5

- Miles traveled: ~8,000

- New favorite movie(s): "Hitch" and "Love Actually"

- Strangest purchase: Omega 3 Fish Oil pills...and a pair of red pants

- Shades darker my skin is: 2-3

- Average time I woke up: 6:00am

- Number of exercises given: ~40,000

Changes...

- Favorite band: Still Blessid Union of Souls, but they now tie with Kutless

- Favorite candy bar: Snicker's with Almonds

- I like incense...a lot

- Prefered method of transportation: motorcycle

Wish I could wrap up this past year with one or two brief lines, but I can't. In fact, I'm feeling extremely inarticulate. Soooo...I've been here a year. One more to go and then on to the next adventure.

God bless.

Dominican Experience: For those of you who don't know, I've been virtually bed-ridden for the past 4 or 5 days due to extreme muscle aches, headaches, difficulty sleeping, neck aches, joint aches, and strangely enough my eyes ache when I move them or try to refocus them. I've worked, but been limited to sitting down for long periods of time and occasionally putting my head down.

I finally gave in to my stubborness and went to the doctor this morning because my health is improving, but it's painfully slow (pun definitely intended). I explained to the doctor how I'm feeling and he sent me down to the lab to get 2 blood tests and a urine sample. Excellent, right?

I enter the door to the lab and the lab assistant is this young, beautiful, single Dominican woman. All goes well...she takes my blood...we talk a bit...then she gets all serious, hands me a glass, and says,
"PP".
"Excuse me?"
"PP."
"PP?"
"PP."
Extremely embarrased me says, "Oh...PP."
"Si, PP."
"Okay."

My brain suddenly regressed 2 decades to when I was 4 years old, running around my parents legs and screaming, "PP! PP!" and giggling hysterically. Only this time I wasn't 4, I wasn't with my parents, and I wasn't giggling. I was 24, hadn't shaved in a couple days, was in the presence of a beautiful woman, and the color red that engulfed my face when it dawned on me what she was asking could only be described with an "oh shit, this is NOT happening to me."

(sigh)

In other news, if you have yet to hear the song "Gravity" by Shawn McDonald, you need to listen to it. And if you have yet to see "When Harry Met Sally", you must. Apparently there are actually people who haven't seen that movie yet...shame on your romance-deprived souls.

Had a friend one time. She said something that's stuck with me. "The more people try and differentiate themselves from the crowd, the more mainsteam they become."

I realized I'm extremely mainstream. Christian mainstream, at least. I try and inspire people through this blog, yet it's a miserable failure. I'm one of the umpteen million bloggers who get 3-5 hits a day. I pray a variation of the same prayer at every meal. I listen to the typical Christian music. I barely read my Bible. I rarely pray earnestly, out loud, and on my knees. I struggle through inspirational Christian books. I say everything's in God's hands, yet I routinely struggle to be content as a single, not knowing my career path, with anger, frustration, impatience, egotism, idolizing material things (I even idolize my $80 genuine black leather NASB version bible), blahhhhh.

I'm not on fire for God. I'm on fire for a better body. If I don't get to work out I get upset and frustrated. I paid an extra $9 to get my muscle-building supplements here before the next shipment of MFI left.

I think in my desire to be real with people, I've come across as fake. We're not used to reality, people with real problems who are willing to express them, so when someone comes around who seems secure enough to admit fallacy, they're immediately labeled as fake. I do it; so do you. And now you know it's true. I'm a fake. Caught red-handed by my own convictions.

I don't exactly know how to be real...and maybe that alone is real enough. Being able to admit I'm a fake, I have no clue what I'm talking about, and sometimes I think I'm a big ugly idiot.

Next time you read an entry of mine...for you 3-5 people who read my blog...just know that I most likely had just drank a massive protein/creatine packed smoothie, had recently written a condescending, curse-filled email to one of my parents, and was most likely listening to Missy Elliot, Coolio, or Nirvana while I wrote about how the Lord inspires me, what He's been doing in my life lately, and how much of a better person I am because of it.

Righttttttttt...