It's been a few days since I last wrote, so I thought I'd catch up by answering a few questions that people I actually see in person ask.

Q: So what's going on with your new apartment?
A: Not much. I mean, we got it. We're moving in May 1 and 2. We're cleaning up our old one, getting ready to move out. They're going to inspect the apartment we're presently inhabiting around mid-April to make sure we haven't grown trees in the living room and pulled up the carpet to play that fun parachute game that you used to play in elementary school, and if not, they'll give us our deposit when we move out. Maybe. That is, if we show our teeth and look tough and scary enough that they're afraid to try to keep our money.

Q: Have you grown trees in your living room?
A: Are you kidding? I have no ability to keep a plant alive, I assure you.

Yesterday my first assignment in my speech class was to read my "Most Virtuous Person" essay to the class. By the time my professor called my name I was feeling pretty guilty, because everyone else had chosen their mothers and grandmothers and made them out to sound like saints. For some reason I thought the assignment was asking for a person outside of family, so I wrote about a home-school guy I knew back in Alabama. I was pretty horrified of what they might think the more I thought about it, because yes, I do consider many California students to be more shallow and less accepting than in Alabama. It's my opinion, and yeah, I know I may be proven wrong one day. I hope so. All I could think is that they are going to think I'm some weirdo with the hots for a nerd that I used to know. Anyway I finally read the paper, got some laughs out of the class when I was supposed to, and actually got a compliment after class. It was from a girl who'd also moved to California from the South. I'm happy with whatever I can get.

Okay, the decision is pretty much final. Around the beginning of May Brandon and I will be moving to Rancho Santa Margarita. The other option I mentioned below (in Costa Mesa) was out before we even got to see it, since the owner called us while we were still at work yesterday and said she had decided to lease it to tenants who had rented it at some point in the past. So the apartment we're getting now is pretty much what we wanted, except one minor detail. It's a one bedroom. Guess we just weren't ready to move on up to spacious living, anyway. But it's in a residential area (it's the only apartment complex around) and we really like it. It's not all dated architecture (I think it was built maybe 1999) and everything seems to be falling into place so far. So if you want to help us out when it's time to move, we'd totally appreciate it. :)

My speech class began last night. It's nearly exactly like Brandon's speech class, with the same book and an identical first assignment (the topic - who is the most virtuous person you know? Of course it's you, don't worry). My teacher seems to be pretty nice, but I have a huge class, which can be bad when you have to hear everyone in the class speak and it's a class that lasts until 10 pm. That means the chances of us getting out early are pretty slim. At least the teacher also seems really peppy. You need a peppy teacher when you work all day and go straight to school until 10 pm. Whine, whine, whine! There now, it's all out.

Anyhow, we're thisclose to finding a place. And today could be the day that decides it all. We're going to check out a condo that we could be renting in Costa Mesa after work that's really close to like, 5 couples that we know from our church. We also found a place that's totally close to our work that's pretty nice and has some of the things we were looking for. So we'll see. Both may not be it. But getting my hopes up is something I don't do often, so... Maybe it won't be to my disadvantage. Welp, gotta go. Bye now.

Okay, here's a phrase I hate. "As a person." As in, "I just want that cute surfer guy to like me as a person." Or "I wish the toothless redneck respected me as a person." What does that mean? What else do you expect someone to like/respect/etc. you as? A monkey? A jello blob? I think it's pretty much assumed that you are a person, and when you say you want to be liked, respected, or understood, you don't have to specify what you are. Unless you are really freakish. In that case, disregard what I just said and by all means, tell us all what you are.

Wendy made some poopies:

I'm not sure why I parked in the parking space last night instead of the garage spot. Brandon usually parks there. It was around 7 pm when I got home from work. I did the usual things I do on nights off (when the house isn't desperate for a cleaning and there isn't a mountain of dirty clothes) and went to bed shortly after Brandon got home. This morning Brandon went to pull the car around to the apartment, and just as I finished tying my shoes he pushed the door open and slammed it behind him. Thinking he was unusually angry because I was running late, I told him I was ready, but he said, "No, Sweetie, your car has been broken into. They took your CD player. I'm not sure what else. They even got into your trunk." I was of course stunned, and I asked if they had broken my window. "No, they popped it open." He then called the police station while I called our work.

When I saw my car I couldn't help remembering when Rich's CD player had been stolen from his car a few years back. It had been done right in his front yard, and the person knew how to do it, the police said. They had removed the stereo pretty neatly. I remembered thinking that I was glad it hadn't happened to my car then. The person who stole my CD player wasn't nearly as neat about it. The person pried it out of my car, causing a bit of damage. The thief took our new digital camera, and the old stereo that came with the car. To top it off, the person even got a few waters out of the trunk. I suppose stealing makes one thirsty. My car was in complete disarray (moreso than usual) and I noticed that the person had pulled out pictures from my glove compartment. One picture was of some of my friends. But one was of Brandon and I on the day we got engaged. I hope the person saw that picture even though it was probably dark. I hope that it was plain to see, these are the people you are doing this to. Obviously it didn't make a difference. The person also didn't feel compelled to steal any of the Bibles littered throughout the car, or the school books.

We're still remembering things that were in my car that now aren't, things that for the life of us we couldn't remember when the policeman and his little dusting kit visited. Oh well. It's life.

Happy Ides

So Caesar coming into the house, all the Senate stood up on their feet to do him honour. Then part of Brutus' company and confederates stood round about Caesar's chair, and part of them also came towards him, as though they made suit with Metellus Cimber, to call home his brother again from banishment: and thus prosecuting still their suit, they followed Caesar till he was set in his chair. Who denying their petitions, and being offended with them one after another, because the more they were denied the more they pressed upon him and were the earnester with him, Metellus at length, taking his gown with both his hands, pulled it over his neck, which was the sign given the confederates to set upon him. Then Casca, behind him, strake him in the neck with his sword; howbeit the wound was not great nor mortal, because it seemed the fear of such a devilish attempt did amaze him and take his strength from him, that he killed him not at the first blow. But Caesar, turning straight unto him, caught hold of his sword and held it hard; and they both cried out, Caesar in Latin: " O vile traitor Casca, what doest thou?" and Casca, in Greek, to his brother: "Brother, help me." At the beginning of this stir, they that were present, not knowing of the conspiracy, were so amazed with the horrible sight they saw, they had no power to fly, neither to help him, nor so much as once to make an outcry. They on the other side that had conspired his death compassed him in on every side with their swords drawn in their hands, that Caesar turned him no where but he was stricken at by some, and still had naked swords in his face, and was hackled and mangled among them, as a wild beast taken of hunters. For it was agreed among them that every man should give him a wound, because all their parts should be in this murther: and then Brutus himself gave him one wound about his privities. Men report also, that Caesar did still defend himself against the rest, running every way with his body: but when he saw Brutus with his sword drawn in his hand, then he pulled his gown over his head, and made no more resistance, and was driven either casually or purposedly, by the counsel of the conspirators, against the base whereupon Pompey's image stood, which ran all of a gore-blood till he was slain. Thus it seemed that the image took just revenge of Pompey's enemy, being thrown down on the ground at his feet, and yielding up the ghost there, for the number of wounds he had upon him. For it is reported, that he had three and twenty wounds upon his body: and divers of the conspirators did hurt themselves, striking one body with so many blows.

Plutarch, Lives. Caes. 66.

Okay, tomorrow night I have my Government final and then all will be well. Life will be semi-normal again. But until then, I offer to you, dear reader, these short posts written in haste in which I whine about how I have no time. No really, my blogs will be better than that soon (and silence to you who say this will be new :-P).

As an update, Brandon and I apartment hunted this weekend (and to answer his professor, I'm not sure what kind of gun you use to do so). To summarize, nothing yet, and bleh towards over-priced housing. Yes I know, that's what we get for living in Southern California.

Otherwise things are good, I suppose. Brandon and Seth seem to be competing to grow the longest hair. Now that I'm 21, I decided it was high time I began using wrinkle cream (we don't believe in aging here in California). And our hamster, Lord Byron, is still alive. He also seems like he almost likes us now. Either that or the hunger is winning him over. Kidding, really.

Okay, I'm out. Keep it real, in a hip yet not hip hop sort of way.

Wendy and I just returned from a lovely night out. We went to Outback Steakhouse. So once we were seated, we each ordered a soda and some food. We were given our drinks and were praying for our meals when all of a sudden Wendy's glass mug broke in half. It was a silent and clear break. Completely in half in the same fashion that the veil of the temple was rent in twain! And so Sprite covered the table as we were trying our very hardest to absorb the liquid with our napkins. Wendy was unsuccessful in keeping the drink out of her lap. Luckily one of the servers finally noticed the fiasco and had us moved to a dry table and provided Wendy a new soda. It is strange that these restaurant professionals would not have known that warm glass would crack when met by a cold counter-part. In like manner, cold glasses will crack when filled with hot coffee. I even noticed that my glass was warm, but I didn't expect Wendy's glass to give in to the cold temperature. We felt sorry for our waitress because she had been having one of those days.

One other thing about Outback is that they do not have any standard gravy. Instead, I was given this gross cabernet sort of thing that made me want to puke, but when the waitress noticed that I wasn't eating that, she was on the verge of suicide. So as I am having her wrap up my tapatoes, I asked her to wrap up the cabernet sauce as well. That made her feel a little bit better, but again, it was one of those days. As she was taking my plate, and fifteen others, she lost control of her load and spilled the sauce and lost a steak knife to the floor. She frustratingly said, "I'll get you some more sauce." So then she comes back and tells us that we have to wait for the chef to make up some more of that cabernet sauce (that I don't even like). So we waited.

All in all, it wasn't too bad, but to my surprise the management made no effort to take any compensatory action. They took warm glasses and filled them with ice-cold soda which caused one of the glasses to break, thus resulting in a very inconvenient situation and a wife with soda in her lap. Yet they didn't so much as give us a tiny discount, even though we were kindest people that anyone could have possibly been. What gets me is that if we had been irate and complained, we probably would have got our meal for free. So where's the reward for being nice? It reminds me of Jeremiah, who cries out:

Why does the way of the wicked prosper?
Why do all who are treacherous thrive?
Jeremiah 12:1

I am not the public speaker that I would like to be, but I would like to fix that. It’s hard for me to identity exactly what my problem is because I usually can blame different things after each speech. One factor is that I always have the tendency to be nervous, but the results of that nervousness vary. Mostly that nervousness makes me lose sight of my sense of time. My tendency is to deliver the message with great rapidity. So to counter that rapidness of speech, I find myself slowing down—and that’s exactly what I did last week during my how-to speech. In my notes, I told myself to be confident. I consciously had more confidence in this speech than my prior one, which turned out for the better in that regard. Yet this last speech was far from perfect.

When I finished giving my speech, the professor told me that it was the longest speech that he’d ever heard on how to change a light bulb. To me, I thought that the comment was a little rude, given that the speech only seemed about three minutes, but after watching the video I realized that the speech was closer to five minutes. I had gone over sixty percent of what the length of the speech was suppose to be. But even worse, it was both boring and embarrassing to watch. I subjected Wendy to it and she told me that I talked too slow and was boring. Well, now I have another area in which I need to improve. While I don’t think that I will be an expert speaker by the end of this course, I do believe that I’ll be a bit better.