Seminary: Post the First

Well, I've really delayed this a lot longer than I ought to have, informing the world of what life is like up here in Seminary... but the fact of the matter is that I was settling in for those first few days after Sunday, and I'm now only just back in Seminary from a silent retreat, wherein we Seminarians (and our priests) were away in a non-Internet-for-me building, since Tuesday night, being as quiet as possible (well, some of us; others were merely being quiet), and keeping generally to as holy and prayful thoughts as we might, interspersed with meals, and the Liturgy of the Hours (Lauds and Vespers), Mass, and talks from Bishop Albert LeGatt of Saskatoon. All in all, a very awesome time, and very resting...

So far, seminary has been fairly laid back. We're on a schedule, with Prayers and Mass, and meals, and whatnot, but classes don't start till Tuesday, for the Theology Students, and not until next week for us lowly Philosophy students. It's a bit interesting for me being at the bottom of the seminary bucket. Not so much in terms of social standing, but in terms of years to go until ordination. This puts me in a bit more humble a spot, ecclessiastically, than I have been accustomed to over the past few years. Back in Olds, I was pretty much Parishioner #2 in many respects, because I was always around (go homeschooling) and because I was young, bright, and interested. It's very good for me, I'm sure, to be among others of my own kind, and so learn to not be at the top of the heap at all times. Not that I'm really complaining. Coming to the Seminary is like joining the 'Downs, a sort of "Yes! There are others like me! And now I'm on of them!" sort of moment.

Anyway, a "Hello" and "Hi out there" to all the people who think I'm possibly dead. Life is great, and it's my hope to try and update this blog at least weekly. Internet access isn't a problem (contrary to my more doomier predictions), but they'll be working us, so I'm not going to be the ever-present bum I was in the old days.

That is the way of the Bionicle

And what is a Bionicle, you ask...

Well, since pretty much all of you- though not QUITE all of you- are from either my "real" life or my Barrow-Downs life, you should not have a clue what on earth I am talking about Bionicles for. If you know what they are, you'll know that they a line of LEGO products, pretty much action-figure in their style and intent, with a pretty large backstory to them. They're five years old now, and showing no signs of flagging. And they're geared at 8-12 year olds.

And I'm 19.

And as any Classic-Castler worth his old grey (injoke... sorry un-LEGOers) knows, Bionicle is generally not considered cool in an AFOL (Adult Fan of LEGO). AFOLs are supposed to be into Castles, Spaceships, Trains, or some eclectic little old theme like Rockraiders. Bionicle, simply put is meant for the youngin's, and the "Bioniclization" of the minifig themes of toys is a matter for great bemoaning by the AFOL community.

However, I must confess that I'm in a rather Bionicle mood at the moment. I can't claim to have ever made a Bionicle creation of my own, and I deplore the Bioniclization of the non-Bionicle themes... but Bionicles have a certain charm, and I have to admit to enjoying the world that the creators of Bionicle made. I'm a sucker for well-made worlds/universes, Middle-Earth having set the bar for me, and whetted my appetite beyond relief.

Finally, Bionicles are simply fun to play with.

Once there was a time when I dreaded growing up, for fear that I wouldn't be able to play with my LEGO anymore. That fear (dare I say alas?) is long gone. It's clear now that I'm never going to outgrow. If anything, the fear now is that I'll be too arthritic or something to play with them...

Meanwhile, I need to get my hands on a Toa Norik... and a McDonald's special Jala. Yes, those of you who know what I mean, I'm the red-collector in our house. With six siblings into Bionicles and six colours, a certain division of the collecting was BOUND to happen...

Interesting...

Very interesting...

And what is so interesting, you ask?

Well, tonight I discovered something about myself: I don't really have a desire to be a cowboy.

Now, the obvious reply to this is "Michael, you want to be a priest. You can't ride. You're an indoorsy type. Why on earth would you want to be a cowboy anyway?"

Well the answer to that is that I am, and always have been, rather the dress-up sort, or the fictional world loving sort. Even today, give me a toy sword and a place to swing where there's no one I'd have to explain why I was swinging to, and well... I'd probably start swinging. Those orks wouldn't know what hit them.

There are three big things, I'd say, that North American boys are stereotypically considered to play at being: Knights (or various sword-wielding alternative Castle-y types), Astronauts, and Cowboys. Now, to any of my fellow Classic-Castlers, or my fellow 'Downers, the fact that I would enjoy playing at being a knight should come as no surprise. It might rather shock them to know that I'd willingly imagine myself as an astronaut, but no more so than that I would be a pirate, or a policeman, or well... a whole lot of stuff.

But a cowboy? Tonight I discovered what I hadn't articulated before, but which was certainly there: I don't care to be a cowboy.

Which is not to say I have anything against cowboys. I have friends who ARE cowboys. And I will willingly watch a good John Wayne movie, no problem there. And one cannot blame it on an not-wanting-to-be-taken-for-an-American complex (which would be a plausible theory, otherwise, seeing how I'm rather pro-Canadian, and British-over-American in my leanings), since the astronaut image is still plausible, and astronauts are more American than cowboys. Cowboys, after all, are perfectly indigenous to this part of Canada.

But no... I just have no desire to ever be in cowboy garb. Indian garb (the p.c. term is "Native", but the context should make it clear what kind of Indians I mean) is far preferable, though I am 100% European in ancestry (least within the past five centuries or so, anyway... before that you might get some Asians and whatnot).

Now, the curious thing, to me, about all this is that I don't know WHY I have this cowboy-is-not-for-me thing. Unless I'm just getting a plain old glimpse into my own aesthetic sense, then I am completely clueless.

Another thing I noted about myself tonight was that I dislike the smell of mingled cigarette and alcohol... but I don't think that so interesting a realization. More of an articulation, and just that.

My New Toy

I am now the rather proud possessor of a 1995 pewter-coloured (well, that's what it says on the Bill of Sale) Ford Contour GL. It's in really nice condition, with new tires and the engine inspected and tuned up. Whilst dodging many large raindrops yesterday I picked up the car, paid for the car, insured the car, delivered papers of inspection and bank release to the insurance people for the purposes of keeping the car insured, and then licenced the car. An expensive day, to be sure, but a good five hundred dollars or more than I was expecting/willing to pay, so not too bad a deal there. And the car is a nice one.

So between final seminary acceptance, and now having my ride, I'm almost 100% ready to go. Not quite 100%, since my room isn't QUITE cleaned out, and I have a few things in the manner of diabetic supplies and whatnot to purchase before I take off, but for the most part I'm ready to go. And I still have a whole week left in Olds. A week to relax, have fun, enjoy the sunshine... and after yesterday's rain, I'll definitely be doing that last. I haven't seen rain like that since the day Sundre flooded out and onto the national news last year. But this doesn't come after a week of rain, as that did, so we seem to be fine. But that sun DOES feel nice!

So... I'm NOT flying anywhere...

Yes, that's right. The trip to Massachusetts is off. No more going to visit other Barrow-Downers. Rather disappointing, that. Also disappointing is that "no trip to a LEGO store, now" bit. Call me addict (I probably am...) but I was looking forward to that.

Oh well, I got most of my money back in airline credit (for which I'm already developing sneaky plans which I shall not reveal here... Mwahahaaha!). I now have a very much needed extra week in Olds, during which I shall get to go to the Fair, have a proper farewell to the parish, try out my new car (I get it Friday! I'm very excited), pack my room, and purloin... I mean, buy... items that I'll need at the Seminary. It may be rather callous of me to say it, but I'm rather excited and glad about not going. Not that I didn't WANT to go, but in a fit of nice optimism, I'm very eager/willing to take advantage of this extra time.

And no, I'm not going to detail the WHY of why I'm not going. Mainly because it's rather silly, slightly confusing, and rather pointless. What business of YOURS is it, anyway? :P

Basking in the Glow of My Sunburn

Sunburns, of course, being as natural for a post-Bones Tournament atmosphere as bubblegum is to baseball players.

We had beautiful weather Thursday, going down, and all day Friday (during which time I went to morning Mass, out for breakfast, and actually did some writing on a fictional work, of all the improbable things), right up until suppertime, when it started to wind and rain. It did that on and off through Registration and into the night, but I remember that more as a good time than as a bad, seeing as it drove me to take shelter (our trailor being full of little siblings) under the awning of my First Cousins Once Removed (Mom's first cousins) and their families (the kids being my Second Cousins). A good evening.

Saturday, the first day of the tournament, we had good weather- nice and sunny. Sunny enough that I sunburned. But if the sun went behind the clouds it was chilly! The wind was nasty, and coming perpendicular to the throwing directions of the games, it made for interesting playing.

My team: Dad, Daniel, Angela, and myself, started off the day with a good winning streak: three wins in a row, before a VERY narrow loss in the fourth game. It's a pity we lost, since we would have qualified for the "playoffs", something Dad hasn't done in 5 years, and something us kids have never done. Anyway, we lost that game, and then the one following. Game 5 was brutal. We got one guard down. One. Worst game I've ever played. We couldn't even hit the penalties. That pretty much wiped us out. We lost Game 6, but by a far more respectable margin. Done for the day, we went back to the campsite for supper, then into Macklin proper for Evening Mass- always my favourite part of the weekend, and not just because the church is now air-conditioned.

It was about this time that I discovered my sunburn, all over my face and neck. I took great cares all through Sunday to keep from burning further, and I seem to have succeeded, but it was too late to do anything about the burns I already had other than lather them in lotion.

Sunday we lost, won, lost, won, lost, getting chucked right out of the 4th Consolation Event by late afternoon, with nary a prize. Still, our overall won/loss record was better than last year- we ended up playing more games, I'm fairly sure. And, as a consolation prize, the 3rd Place Champions (and this out of 320 teams) were family friends- their mom and my mom having been neighbours, classmates, and best friends way back yonder... This was also the first year we ever stayed to watch the finals. A lot more fancy and eventful than I had imagined.

We stayed the night at the campground, and headed back to Olds Monday morning, detouring through Daysland to see Grandma. It was a long, long drive coming home, or felt like it. Time seems to pass a lot slower when travelling the back highways than it does taking Highway 2 (or the Queen Elizabeth II Highway, as we are now supposed to call it). But, Monday being the Long Weekend, it would have been a nightmare on that highway, not to mention slower than mud going through Camrose, which was unloading the Big Valley Jamboree right about then.

So I'm home. And with three days left ere I leave for Massachusetts, I still have what feels like a tonne of stuff to do: get a car (that's a biggie), sort out stuff from the accident (details, details), finish packing out my room (what a mess!), get the KofC treasurer's stuff to my successor (a month late), and be ready to leave the day after I get back.

Fun times!

And do I feel on top of the world! Picking up Angela from Our Lady of Victory Camp on Thursday, Fr. Paul told me that the Archbishop wrote my letter of acceptance! I'm in the seminary for sure, for sure! I'm very pumped. If only I had more time to spread the word before I take off...

A Boning We Shall Go...

Okay, so my hand seems to have regained the ability to type unimpaired- just in time for me to have caught a major strain of outdoor-itis. So, though I COULD be online again, doing stuff like RPGing, or WW, or Whatnot... I don't want to. I barely want to be indoors. And, quite apart from my online "commitments", that doesn't bode well for the packing of my room.

Mind you, I'm about to take off for a weekend of No-Internet, over which I shall play (probably) about 9 games of Bunnock, get sunburned around the ears, and see more cousins than I can count.

The World Bunnock Championship Tournament has been held for 14 years now, yearly, in the town of Macklin Saskatchewan, where a whole parcel of ethnic Germans from Russia's Volga valley settled in the early 20th Century. Among the other things they brought from the Old World was the oddish game of "Bunnock", or as we know it, "Bones". Played with 52 horse ankle bones (don't look at me that way! They're cleaned, painted, and in no way seperated from the horses prematurely), and played in a sort of lawn bowling/horseshoes mesh between two teams of four.

Insanely fun- as most people discover after they've been forced to try it. Typically, that doesn't happen until you talked them past their whole "oh, weird!" reactions.

Anyway, the World Championship (meaning they were the first to have a tournament, and there's is the biggest) is held yearly in Macklin. Pretty much everyone who plays is descended from those Macklin-based German-Russians, or else heard of it from them. As a German-Russian of good Gartner stalk off my Mom's side, I'm consequently related (by many infathomable degrees of kinship) to every second person there. It's really sweet that way! Most the teams are Canadian, Albertans and Saskatchewaners being predominant, but people from all 13 provinces and territories have played (except maybe Nunavuters), not to mention Americans, Japanese, and Australians. Yes, some people have come from Japan and Australia to play. Never heard the story there, though.

Anyway, it's going to be sweet, sweet! I just hope my stitches don't give me any trouble...

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!

Still Getting the Hang of This

Okay, Test 2 in a pre-publication dry run... Seems pointless to do anything of length, but as anyone who may or may not read this in the future ought to know of me: I'm wordy. Seriously, take a look at that last sentence. I'm also really hesitant to commit myself to anything that I don't know for sure.

Really, I hate being wrong.

It's like a curse.

Anyway, I'm alive and kicking, and there's not much to say. At the moment, that's okay: there's no one to read it yet either.

Testing, Testing, 1,2,3...

Am I on?

It sure looks like it....

Well, for now this is just a preparation- a gearing up for the days ahead. And with no audience, as yet.

For those parts of you (or, having no audience, is that those parts of me?) who don't yet know- I am going to be leaving home in a short time: two months. After three years of Internet deliquency, characterized by some ridiculously free amounts of time spent online, I'm going to find myself cutting back to the point of, well, very little.

And so, in order to try and keep people up-to-date with my life- and possibly to keep somewhat in touch, here I am "blogging". Such a geeky thing to do...

Not that I'm not something of a geek to begin with.

Back with more when the mood strikes. After all, I'm not banished from Internet delinquency QUITE yet.