Car Accidents Equals Not Good!

And, as can be inferred from the title, I have just had one touch my life more. Indeed, I have just been in one.

It started innocuously enough. I went out camping at Gull Lake with a number of friends- mostly ex-coworkers (now that I'm a temporarily unemployed bum again) and their circle of friends. It was a good time indeed- even if I definitely felt like Jesus must have, supping with the sinners and tax-collectors. Anyways, three of us had to head home this afternoon, one to get back to work, one to hang out with his Mom, and I to serve as Acolyte at Saturday night Mass.

To make a long story short of it, Sara* (who was driving) had had scarcely any sleep the night before, and probably wasn't in top form. Jordan* was bugging her a little, and we were perhaps going somewhat faster than we should have been...

Going around a curve on Highway 2A, we swerved more than comfortably. Sara over-corrected, spinning us around, across the (thankfully empty) oncoming lane, into the ditch, and flipping us wrongside up.

Thankfully, no one was hurt- at all- by the accident. At least not physically. Sara was really shook up, and no wonder, seeing as she was driving- and as the vehicle didn't belong to her, but to Will*, who had stayed at the campsite. Who and/or how the accident is going to be paid for, I haven't a clue. Insurance is really hazy about other people driving your vehicle under the age of 25. So Sara is not having a good day, Jordan is not having a good day, and Michael (that's me) is... well, he's not having a good day either.

So, we're upside down, and I can't open my door, and neither can Sara. In the end, I bust open my window with my foot (and by "in the end", I mean less than a minute after we stopped), and we crawled out that way. Stupid me, though, in his haste to escape the claustrophobic atmosphere of an upside-down truck, ended up cutting himself on the glass on his left arm. The worst was a 1.5 centimetre-long (and deep, down to the muscle) cut on my left hand, below the pinkie finger. Because of this and the copious bleeding attached thereto, I was ambulanced to the hospital, where I got my first-ever stitches.

And so, here I am, rather tired, quite dirty (still haven't showered from camping), adrenally drained, with a completely numb left pinkie (anesthetic and lack of blood), with a story that's not like to be forgotten too soon. What a day!

Still, I cannot say that Jesus was doing anything for me other than granting favours today. None of us were hurt in the accident, not at all (other than the cut, but that's minimal). And rollovers can be really nasty. And I'm glad I'm the one who got (or was dumb enough) to get hurt. There's no way Sara could have handled it right then, and I don't think Jordan would have fared too well (at least with his Mom, anyway). I didn't have a problem. Okay, it hurt, but I was well-able to control it, get it stitched up, and get on with life. The last was a miracle in itself. The accident happening when it did, I totally didn't expect to make to Mass on time- but I did, perfectly. Another second, and I'd have been late.

For that matter, had my sister not been in choir at Mass, I'd have had to explain to my parents why I was hurt, and I wouldn't have made Mass on time- but she did, so my family was there, and so I was fine. I also wouldn't have been able to acolyte in my dirty, blooded clothes if I hadn't gotten an alb this week to wear- and if I hadn't brought it to the church on Wednesday, on what was basically a whim. And I couldn't have gotten into our house to grab a clean pair of shoes and car keys if I hadn't still had the set I'd taken to get into the Church the night before.

So God is good! And I won't here a word to the contrary.

Now, that's enough for now. Trying to type without my left pinkie is really frustrating.


*May or may not be a real name...

Lord, what fools these mortals be!

Or... when the cat's away, the mice will play.

These last few days at work are insane... Seeing how I'm done in two days anyway, and seeing how if my bosses ever found out, I'd be about... second to last, if not last on their hit list, I'm not exactly afraid for my job. I am, however, somewhat morally concerned about my responsibility in the matter. To be fair, those silly co-employees of mine would hardly listen if I told them to lay off, short of tattling to the bosses. And the store continues to run. Pizzas are sent out on time, they are made properly, and the customers are treated with all the respect due (which isn't always that much, the old adage about the customer always being right is, in fact, wrong). The store is even clean and and the paperwork done at the end of the night. Nothing to worry about, right?

Maybe it's just the precipice edge that this tomfoolery sits on that gives me reason for concern... What if things got just a LITTLE bit worse? Supposing that instead of one beer in the afternoon, they had two? (Yes, they are drinking -underage drinking, but never mind that- on the job.) Supposing that instead of a CD player (which, in my opinion, the store needs anyway) they brought in a TV? Supposing that instead of just the off-shift employees coming in and hanging out, their girlfriends and buddies were in as well?

Well, it hasn't happened yet... and I think I can safely assume that it won't. And, shamed perhaps though I am to admit it, I really don't care. Oh, I don't LIKE the chaos- I'm a very proper person, really. I like my battleships to run smooth. But care? From a store-first point of view? Nope. And, two days from the end, it's rather hard to work up the interest.

Lord have mercy on my soul!

Repetition

So...

I sit here and am ready to write another post in this silly blog of mine, and it occurs to me that, really, all I have to write about is more of the same: I can't wait to leave home, I can't wait to be in the Seminary, and (rather most desperately at the current moment) I can't wait to be done my job.

Five. More. Days.

I promised myself I'd do a real, proper, and comprehensive look at my Panago career AFTER I'd actually finished there- which is in Five More Days, in case I didn't already mention- and I'll keep that promise, but it is hard- so hard.

Not though, that I haven't said most of those things out loud to anyone willing to listen for the past three months. No, it is only you- dear Internet- that has been spared the brunt of my whining.

Meanwhile, I drift in limbo... waiting for the Archbishop to give formal assent to my being his seminarian. (Or, since he may have granted that assent without me being informed, for me to find out about it.) Seriously, there will be a huge post here when that happens. There will be signature changes everywhere. A post on the Assigned to the Shire thread. Announcements in Church. There's no doubt about it- knowing for sure, after so many months of couching my words in "that's the plan", "hopefully", and "should" it's going to feel awesome, awesome, awesome to say YES!

Meanwhile... I have "five more days" to look forward to.

Yeah...

Right.

Is it Home?

You know you're ready to move out, when you can't think of a single person (other than family) who will miss you- I mean, MISS you- when you're gone. It's also rather telling when you've spent the better part of the last year under a rock, which is what Panago has felt like. Working evenings really ruins any chance of socializing, and after about three months, people give up on trying to get you on a night when it'll work- even if you tell them to keep letting you know.

I guess I'm feeling pretty pessimistic about Olds right now. Which doesn't mean that I hate the place. I love this town, I love the people here, but I'm not going to miss either once I'm gone. The time is past when I was ready to go, and I've (without wanting to) lost contact with a lot of people in the interim.

Not that I was ever a popular person, or a person with lots of close friends. That's never been me and, odds are, probably never will be. But the time has long since gone by when I felt like I had a place in Olds. I don't anymore- or at least not a place that satisfies me. I want- I need- more!

Here's to hoping the seminary fills up that hole.

Werewolf

With... I think... eleven Werewolf games under my belt, not including a successful stint as a Moderator, I think I can call myself a veteran of the Werewolf craze on the 'Downs, but never before has it so truly felt like a war....

My comments on the discussion thread, I think, were directed at me as much/more than they were directed at her ('Downers will know of whom I talk, I'm sure... though etiquette suggests, to my mind at least, that I not go naming names...) To sum: HOW you say something is as important, or moreso, than WHAT you say. Certainly, that post was an exercise in self-control. To try and get across in as nice, non-judgemental, and non-confrontational a manner as possible some criticisms about WHY somebody seems to provoke petty responses is not easy... although I think that I did rather better than worse.

Still, if there's one reason why I side with the side of the debate opposite, if I may be so confrontational as to say so, it's because I have some of those same tendencies in me... Seriously, she thinks that SHE can be blunt and hard-spoken? It's a matter of simple rivalry... I could be just as bad- or worse- if I ever let myself. I have a caustic tongue, when I want. Oddly enough, I was only just remembering the one talking-to I got in Grade 2 from the teacher. And, guess what, Mrs. Carlson sat me down in the hall to talk about... you guessed it... learning to moderate my tone/choice of words.

So I know how easy it is to be in her shoes. And I'm definitely stubborn enough not to back down once an argument is going. But, possibly, BECAUSE I know what it's like is why I'm so frustrated by it... if I can make the effort, and have made making the effort habit, then surely it's possible for her to TRY?

Whether I'm seeing things clearly or not, I've come to the conclusion that having somewhere OTHER than the 'Downs to rant is a good thing.

A Stranger in an Unholy Land...

Am I the ONLY 19 year old in this country who doesn't feel the need to drink to have a good time? Or have I just ostracized myself from those who feel the same way?

THIS is when it is really irksome to have accidentally driven a wedge in your friendship (a wedge, which, seems to be gone... but which has previously been a problem): when the only people you seem to hang out with are the party animals.

Not that I have a problem with alcohol. I'll drink, no problem there. (I won't get drunk, having a rather strong abhorrence of being a fool, but I'll drink.) No, the issue is with people who's idea of a good time is to buy a 6-pack of beer, and then go drink it. (For groups of more than one person, correspondingly larger amounts of beer/other booze should probably be added.)

Quite frankly, I find that exceedingly dull.

I mean, REALLY dull.

I can have a better time at 1:00 in the morning chatting with people online. In fact, I have had a better time doing just that, several times. So maybe it's time to stop bemoaning my lack of a social life this past year, and rejoice that the people I've been talking with haven't been beer-obsessed maniacs.

Don't get me wrong, I love these friends and I like to spend time with them- and not all of last night was bad- but the desire to express a certain frustration at their lack of alternative pastimes is rather strong.

Am I the ONLY one who things that a conversation over coffee beats a conversation over beer any night?

Probably...

Another day, another entry...

At, least, another day another entry is how it works right now, while I still have access to the Internet on a daily (with lots of time) basis.

Seriously, going to the seminary will be good if only because I'll be on my feet more.

Not too much to say today. I did end up going out to the canoers last night, to hang out for a couple of hours. 2 hours driving, all told, between there and back, but well worth it. Looks like it would have been the most awesome (aka, least rowdy) group yet to have gone with. Rather a bummer that I couldn't go... but SOMEONE has to make pizza, I guess.

I don't know though... I'm still not sold on my boss's idea that we're doing good by feeding the hungry masses. I'm rather convinced that we're catering to a lazy, materialistic, self-absorbed crowd, who would do well to have to cook their own food- but that COULD just be eight and a half months of tiring labour talking...

I only work three days next week, which is awesome, because I work six days the following week, while my bosses are on holidays- which is not quite so awesome. Sometime inbetwixt I need to put in my two week's notice. Money is needed, yes, but I think time is even more valuable. I have to pack out my room sometime, especially seeing as my younger brother is all ready to move in.

Time flies too fast- and yet not fast enough.

Patience is a Virtue

Okay, so I'm public.

Meaning I've linked here in places where people may (or just as likely, may not) be interested in finding out what I have to say.

But what DO I have say?

Well... not too much.

On the seminary front, there's clearly nothing happening. It's summer. School is out during summer. Ergo, I am not in the seminary... and I'm still waiting for that Letter of Recommendation the Archbishop has to write. It is important, I guess, to remember that patience is a virtue.

On the work front... I am still sick of Panago. 8.5 months has been more than long enough. I'll be ready to quit when the time comes- except for the whole "not earning money anymore" thing, but that's rather inevitable.

And... elsewhere... Well, there isn't really an elsewhere at the moment. Work, church, sleep; that's my routine. And the Internet... the Internet is my friend. Pirates of the Caribbean II is out tonight, and like half the people in the country, it seems, I plan to see it- but not tonight. Probably sometime next week. I ought to be going canoing this weekend, but work blew a hole in that theory (see why I rather tired of it?), and so I'll possibly drive out and join them for Mass on Sunday, or maybe tonight if I'm not too tired. But I'll miss the canoing proper.

And I wait... wait... wait...

*Patience is a virtue*

To Go Public?

Most privately owned companies eventually seem to come to a time when they must "Go public", and a blog reaches that stage long ere a company does. Quite frankly, what is the point of a blog if it's not public?

So... if this blog IS to go public soon, then I suppose I ought to explain its mission for the unknowledgeable.

Epistles from the Lost is basically the story of me, Michael A. Joosten (known to some as "Formendacil") as I choose to publish it online. It will, therefore, be highly idiosyncratic and rather random in what catches my attention so as to end up published herein.

As far as PURPOSE goes, I have a purpose that (I think) is a little more noble than just spewing my thoughts online.

As most of the people at all liable to read this should know, I am a Catholic of good standing, young, male, and unmarried. And, as they also ought to know, I'm planning/expecting/and should be going to St. Joseph's Seminary in Edmonton this fall to begin the process of study that will culminate in ordination to the Catholic priesthood.

As a result of that, I who currently spend hours per day online will no longer be able to do so. And, seeing as this past year's social scene for me has been VERY online-centric, I'm going to some lengths to hopefully prevent a complete disappearance from the lives of the people who have been rather dear to me.

So here I am, blogging. With the hope in mind that, some people actually reading it, I'll be able to remain somewhat more in touch, at least in the PROVIDING of information on my life, with a large number of my acquaintances.

And, there's the possibility too that, seeing how I'm not much of the phoning sort, some the "flesh-and-blood" people in my life will be able to keep up with me via this blog. Who knows? God being omnipotent, He may even use this as an opportunity for me to demonstrate what a fun, holy (I assume here...), and human a life devoted Him really is.

To Expound

Okay, to expound on the last: Nancy is back from France, and my online conversations just got a good deal more lively. I'm going to miss them quite a bit once the fall, and the seminary, comes along.

And, really, that's the whole purpose of this as-yet-unpublished blog: to keep people in touch with where I'm at once face-to-face or chat-to-chat conversations become irregular or impossible.

And I rather suspect that most likely readers will find the whole seminary thing to be unexplored ground. Since most of them aren't even Catholic, for them to be familiar with seminaries seems rather unlikely.

For that matter, until last month, I'd never been to a seminary, of any denomination, either.

Yay!

Nancy's back!

I'm very happy.

More after rosary.

Yay!