I'm kind of thirsty

He looked just the slightest bit uncomfortable in front of the coffee shop counter, looking up at the menu, fingering keys or something in his hand. He was good-looking, in my opinion. Blond, slender. He looked to me how I felt when it had been my turn in front of the counter. A pace or two back from where he "should've" been, standing there, barely, in a noncommittal fashion, kind of as though wishing he could look at a menu on his phone in the comfort of his car maybe, but still interested in the information. I turned back to my lists and didn't notice whether or not he ordered something. Later I glanced up and saw him in the book shop side of the room with his girlfriend, smiling, following.

I walked into the cafeteria and weaved through the crowded-tabled room toward the food lines. "Clouzet, Clouzet!" I heard. J caught my attention and then motioned and mouthed that I looked strange wearing jeans, that he wasn't used to it. "What a dork," I thought. I wear these all the time. After getting my food, he and I ended up exiting at the same time. "You look better in your normal pants," he told me. Okay, whatever. I think I smiled and said thanks. He's a good kid.

Yesterday morning I woke up to find an email that asked a couple questions which essentially called me out on an error I'd made while on duty the night before. I'd messed up, and for some reason didn't even realize it fully. I was embarrassed and ashamed, and of course later, when I talked with the email sender about it, he was gracious and kind and I felt really stupid. I'd also been asked to check in to whether or not I could have the cats in the apartment. That also made me feel dumb. I wasn't trying to hide them. Then later that afternoon, some of the staff were trying to locate a couple guys from the dorm. They called me a couple times—as I was on duty the day before—but I didn't notice the calls. Finally, a third person called me and I noticed. Oh, of course, those kids are here and there, gone for the day. I'd told one person the day before about why they were gone, but didn't think to inform the dean who'd be on duty the next day. That didn't feel good. A third screwup for the day. Sometimes I feel like a slow child.

The kittens start to congregate around my sleeping body, especially the sleeping head part of my body, in the morning when I'm trying to sleep in and they're trying to get fed. After plenty of that this morning, I finally rolled out of bed (literally, I don't have a bed frame), and went over and knelt down by their bowls to pour them their food. Suddenly, orange kitty leaped up in his excitement and clamped onto my naked torso with all four paws. I went rigid. "F***!" I blurted, stiffly pouring his dumb food and then unhooking him gingerly from my side. I could literally murder my boy right now. In a game of Wii sports. I love my boy.

Milling around with the dozen plus students waiting to run the UCA Track and Field Day 5k yesterday,
I shook my legs out and wondered who'd beat me and whether it'd be embarrassing or not. And I also wondered whether I might actually beat them instead. We started. It was a soft downhill at first and I took it easy while most of them shot ahead. But then came the long, gradual uphill to the turn around and I steadily passed them all with my shortened, quick strides. One of them willed himself to run beside me with loping hurts down the return hill for a while, but eventually succumbed to discomfort. In the end I told him experience had helped me "win", but I don't think he really heard me. It's interesting to realize I am "experienced" in something compared to someone else. That's another way of saying I'm old.

I feel too old, and not old enough. I'd like to have a day someone would make a movie about. Where everything's flat, then it goes down, then I go over something, then it goes up forever and I win. I'd like to see the whole shape of me. And for the blood in me to flow sharper. I'd like to dream on paper, and fall in love. I'd like to look into eyes, talk about someone other than myself, go to bed thinking about my day, wake up to the skip of a heartbeat.

Yes, I'm feeling tonight. No, I don't know what. Yes, I've enjoyed the past several weeks. No, that doesn't mean my life is making sense. Yes, of course it's okay.

It's raining, but I'm inside

A few months ago, Anthony and I decided we'd try and write at least once a week. I don't think either of us have adhered well to our informal challenge. Nevertheless, occasionally I find myself sitting in the big brown recliner stuffed into my room, fan blowing on my feet, The Brilliance worshipping from my laptop, and I figure I might as well write an update on the life of Christoffer. It is the title of this blog, after all.

On April 21 I ran a 50k trail race—my first—and it was hard. I got emotional a couple times, when the legs ached like slow death and wanted to stop but my heart soaked up the signal before it got to my brain; when I thought of Jesús, the kid who blessed me with "when you can't run with your heart, run with your legs" when I told him I knew it'd be tough and sorry for missing your soccer game; when the rain drizzled on my beat-up body and the river hardly noticed at my side, but I did.

And I got furious at the race organizers and the person who invented the mile and the crowds that weren't there to run me home when the last mile seemed to be three. I swear it was long. Though I did find out later that my phone's gps had jumped a bit during the race and logged an extra 1.3 miles during the race that I did not run, making me think that I was running significantly farther than the 31-mile limit my mind thought it could take.

But first, for the first 15 miles, I got blissed. That means that the fresh Spring flowers were tiny in their little colors dotting the forest. It means the weaving of the trails through the spindly pines and firs, the inclines that rendered the greens and shadow greens of forest views for miles to our side. Blissed means having the means to snap a photo of the gentlemen churning trail in front of me and post it to Instagram while on the run. It means running freely, happily, willingly, for miles and miles with people of a like mind and like goal. It even meant turning back around mile 18 to gaze in wonder at the sprinting high school kids coming up behind us, destroying their 10k course.

And then it was turning back to the trail and slogging through the second half of the course, finishing alone and furious, and five minutes later feeling on top of the world, shuffling from food to car to food to car, and finishing up my day by driving half an hour home with stiffening legs, showering, and going right to the office to start my 11-hour shift in the dorm. I was exhausted that night when I went to sleep, and maybe never so proud of myself as feeling then that I had earned that sleep.

Yes, I stole this from the race photographer...

***

Two days later now and I'm back in that big recliner with the fan blowing on my feet. It's raining outside, for once in our lives. I was on duty this weekend, so it was quite a bit of go go go in the evenings at least. Yesterday I opened the gym and we played a lot of basketball. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I was playing 21 with a couple guys and I told them the story of when I was in high school and Andy and I played 21 and he beat me. 21 - 0. Close game. I didn't do so bad yesterday. Sometimes I even dribble now and it's interesting to experience because I'm better than I thought; I've never tried to dribble.

Went all nostalgic yesterday with some fun students who introduced me to Tim Hawkins. I proceded to introduce them to the gem that is Balloon Shop: Hey Ben. Take It to the Next Level. Jelly Beans. Mitten...

Baytowne Heights. Oh man. Those were good times.

Still slowly thinking and praying about what I'm doing when school's out. It's more of a fundamental issue, I think, this figuring out. I'm so average that it feels like there are so many things I could do that I would enjoy and that would be of service to those around me. Why can't we raise the life expectancy back up to 900 or so years so that I can enjoy them all? I'd vote for that. I'd like to live in a lot of places, too. I need more landscapes for Instagram. Just kidding. But seriously.

You know what's fun? Going to a book store while you wait for a student to get done with an appointment downtown, and buying a book that simply looked interesting to you, yes, based on the cover. It's exciting. Kind of risky. Will it totally suck? Will it be one I'll recommend? I don't know! So fun. I started reading it last week in the park. It's called The True Story of Hansel and Gretel. But it has a twist: they're aliens. Just kidding. They're Jews. And I was surprised how well I liked the style of writing. Made me kind of proud to have picked out that book, even though there's no reason for it.

I'm also reading through Acts and I'm afraid to say it out loud lest I stop. But it's good stuff. Feels more like reading history what with details like the group that hated on Stephen (the Synagogue of the Freedmen—I had to look it up again just now) and such. There is so much Bible to read I never know where to start and where to go next and why. Not to mention I haven't done much of it the past few years. But one chapter of Acts a day and a bit of journaling on it will get me pretty near the end of the school year. So that's the where and why this time.

I'm out.