I can't even think of an appropriate title. Something with Sucidie?

I'm not even sure how to write this. Essentially, I've just spent the last hour trying to convince a girl that had taken a bottle and a half of tylenol that she shouldn't kill herself.

Let's review the details of this girl. The details I know.

1. She lives in South Carolina
2. This is the first time I've ever talked with her
3. She is actually my friend's girlfriend
4. While I was on the phone with her, my friend (who lives here in CO) was on the phone to poison control to try to get an ambulance over there.

I talked with her for... I think about an hour. What do you say to someone like that? What kind of things are OK? What are things you want to avoid?

In the end, I think I did alright. I was able to keep her on the phone long enough to get the EMTs over to her place. She cried. And she cried. I was scared. She talked about wanting to lie down and die. I asked her why she was in SC. She told me how hopeless everything was. I told her she was loved. She told me she wanted to dies SO BADLY. I told her that I want her to live. We talked about God.

Finally, a knock on the door. "Some motherfucker's knocking on my fuckin' door," she said. "I really think you need to answer that," I said. She put the phone down and answered the door. Two minutes of silence let me know that the cavalry had arrived.

I'm still shaking. I don't know if I've heard the voice of desperation like I've heard it tonight. What do you say to that? What can you say? Hell if i know. My mouth was a constant dual stream of whispered prayer to my God, and a controlled, steady flow of questions to Ali. Perhaps the most surreal thing is that my roommates sat on the other side of the wall playing WoW the whole time, not knowing why I disappeared for that hour.

I'm not sure how to handle all of this, but if you guys could pray for her. She sounded like she needed it. A lot.

And pray that her boyfriend, my friend, will be the loving and comforting presence she needs.

Thanks.

One of the Most Frustrating Things

So, this post is once again about Jesus' divinity or the possible lack of.

I was talking with two really good friends last night about it. One asked why I question, so I outlined the reasons I've discussed here. Those being, roughly, we're supposed to serve one God, and I'm certain this fascination with deifying Christ comes from paganism.

This post is about my frustrations about the things people assume when they talk to me about it.

First: I'm intimately familiar with the reasons why people believe Jesus is God. I've heard the arguments: everything from deep theological discussion to happy happy Christian fortune cookie stuff. I've heard this stuff since the day I decided to follow in the path of the Messiah. In fact, I was one of the few people I've ever known who wasn't at all tripped up by the idea of the trinity. My confusion came when I tried to fathom why others were confused. Both positions are equally understandable for me, and in fact, God seems like a schizophrenic a lot of the time if he is Jesus. God being tempted? That's sheer ridiculosity. God would be tempted by nothing. The mere act of Him being tempted would negate Him. There is no temptation to be found in God. And this extends onward.

Second: When discussing this, don't come from the foregone conclusion that he is God, because that will lead you, inexorably, to the conclusion that he's God. Granted, I'm sort of doing the same thing, but i'm not trying to say "he's not God because he's not God" in the same way you shouldn't say "he has to be God because he's God."

Third: If you talk to me about this, and there are more of you than there are me, don't do these two things: 1. Assume I have all the answers. I do not. As I've always said, this is a very tentative belief, and if it's one I adhere to, I don't have all the answers yet. 2. When you ask me things, let me answer them before someone else jumps in and starts asking questions. It's overwhelming to try to answer, not only more than one question, but more than one question at a time.

Fourth: This is my worry. What if I become so stone hard convicted about this position, and I become the crazy man in the mountains? The man that's right that no one believes? And actually, this leads me to my fifth.

Fifth: I don't think it matters one way or the other. Jesus neither corrected or rejected anyone in what they said. They wanna worship him? Worship him. Think he's a prophet? He's a prophet. He never said, "wait a damned second here buddy. I'm God, treat me as such." His answer was always, "your faith has made you well," or "your faith allows you to see" or something like that. I actually think that, at most, Jesus as God is nonessential doctrine. What was the greatest commandments? "Love the Lord God with all you heart, mind, and body, and the second is like it: love your brother like yourself." Is that all it takes to be a Christian? From the mouth of Yeshua to my heart.

Sixth: If you've ever had a discussion with me, especially if you're the two guys from last night, and you read this, don't let it stop you. Please talk with me about it. It's good for me to see where my position needs extra fortifying and such. Let's just not talk about it approaching the midnight hour or after. I get really somber and emotionally invested in WHATEVER'S going on. It doesn't matter what it is, it becomes life and death for me.

So, that's it. As always, comment as you wish.

Edit: my friend Todd requested that I link him from here, seeing as how his latest blog dealt with a similar issue. So, that's what I'm doing. I just didn't see his request until 6 hours after I posted my own blog. So, Todd's blog.

An Update

In my last post, I confessed that I'd doubted (or rather been unsatisfied) with the standard doctrine that Jesus and God are the same. Well meaning people gave me metaphors and allegories (metaphors and allegories that I'm very familiar with, and have been very familiar with for the past 13 years of my participation in Christendom) about how an apple has three parts, water sublimates, the fact that my dad is not just a dad but a son and a brother as well. One person even gave me a Max Lucado book. Unfortunately, when a hard theological quandary you have, Max Lucado (king feel-good-with-treacly-Christian-gay-crap writer man) doesn't quite have the theological mandibles to cut through it. I read on the back of one of the books that, "even if it was just to save you, God still would have sent Jesus." What causes him to draw such a ridiculous conclusion? No he wouldn't. As much as our modern world hates it, God and Jesus are both about results. They don't think small. They might work small sometimes to achieve a larger end, but they don't perform a small task for the sake of that small task. That includes saving our "eternal" souls. If God's so interested in saving "just that one person," why did he command genocide in the Old Testament?

I digress. I think part of my gripe with that Trinity concept extends beyond Christ himself. I think there are a few different parts of it. I will see if I can identify them.

1. It sounds an awful lot like paganism. I mean, Hindus have a story about God incarnate descending to Earth to restore it from chaos. Their story sucks, a lot, in comparison to ours even if it is the same story, but the stories are quite similar nonetheless, and predates our own Christ story by at least a thousand years, probably more. Also, the Celts believe in a triune goddess, and believed in it prior to the bronze age, and prior to St. Patty, the Italian saint that stood up to the king. I wonder if any Christians in America would have the stones to stand up to a king. Jews and Christians are supposed to believe in one God, and one God only.
   
2. I sort of think it's the product of modern Christianity's desire to "have it all figured out." Not that that desire is entirely bad, but they encapsulate things far too much. Even if I arrive at the exact same conclusion, that God=Jesus and Jesus=God, modern Christianity seems to forget the part that "working out your salvation with fear and trembling" is something that must be done in your own time, and perhaps the largest part of that is realizing, on your own, what and why Truth is. I've been growing restless with just accepting "truth" or Truth at face value. Believing that Christ IS God is easier than believing that Christ is the functional Messiah, the man chosen by God to share equality with God.
   
3. I've never found it to be a hard concept to grasp. This is a really dumb reason, and I admit that here. I've never understood people who say things like "I don't understand the trinity." Why? It's simple. It's so incredibly simple that I don't think I could even begin to describe why or how it's so simple. I don't mean to be condescending with that, but those are my thoughts. If our God is a complex and mysterious God, then why would this be Truth? Like I said, that's incredibly weak reasoning.
4. My view of the soul, well, it might be changing. This part's also up in the air a little bit. I'm not sure if we have eternal souls, or if the Spirit of God makes it eternal. I'm also not certain if we are to live in hell for eternity. Basically, the thought runs like this: Jesus is a man as I am. The spirit of God fills him, he becomes as though God, and with the Spirit of God, He faces death and comes through the other side now allowing all of us to experience the same Spirit of God, face death and come through the other side, but most importantly, become the new tabernacle for the indwelling of the most holy God YHVH all to the glory of God. If we assume this, there are only two parts (initially?) to people, not three, and likewise, only two parts to the "Godhead." There would be God (as there would be our body), and God's spirit (as would be our spirit), but the traditional Jewish view of the body and soul is not that they are separate, but that they are one. It's Greek mythology that teaches us otherwise. See, this theory of unification is more mysterious to me than our theory of separation, but somehow, the spirit is not just tied to the body, but in some way, it is the body. I don't get it. Anyways, God's Spirit comes to indwell us, making the part of us that's dead come alive.
   
   This all relates to hell in ways that I'm not sure I can articulate, or should perhaps articulate in another post.

I feel certain there was a fifth reason, but it eludes me right now, which is incredibly lame. What conclusions have I reached though? That's the important part, right? Well, let me first be honest and say that I suck at fasting. Really bad. I did it the first two days, no problem. Then I went to lunch with a friend. On the way to lunch, I was praying about eating lunch and breaking my fast. I "heard" in that internal dialog kind of way that, "you're the one with the doubts, I'm confident in who I AM." So, I ate guilt free. The next day, I was exhausted from getting to bed late, and ended up caving and eating to help make me feel energized, which is retarded, because eating very rarely gives me any kind of energy boost. Well, on the way back to work from lunch, a voice said, "alright, yesterday God said to you to eat, because He, more or less, didn't care. You're the one that feels like you have to, so, what? Are you just ignoring it now?" I think I recognize that as an "attack" if you will, because God didn't tell me to eat. Also, this made me feel kind of crappy for a couple of days, and to some extent, I feel lame for making a deal, so to speak, with God, and then not honoring it. But, God does have a point. I'm the one with the problem, not Him.

Second, though the little I've read my Bible is very, um, little, this whole escapade has brought new life to scripture for me. Things seem to be actually interesting, and no longer in simple radio instruction format. That's perhaps the most exciting part and the part that would make all of this worth it if it were an otherwise total failure.

So, to recap, I wanted to fast and read scripture. I've done very little of either, and feel bad about not reading the scripture more than the fasting. But what's my (current) conclusion?

My current conclusion is that I don't know if it actually matters. People said Jesus was all sorts of things. They called him prophet, messiah, teacher, rabbi. No one called him God, Jesus didn't even call himself God, He made ominous hints and suggestions, but never came outright with it, but this caused the Sanhedrin to jump to conclusions. As I was saying, I don't know if it actually matters. He was constantly telling people, "your faith has saved you" even though they never referred to Him as God. So, if Jesus didn't mind, why do we?

I'm not using this as an easy out, but I'm entirely OK with not only not knowing, but not ever knowing. I suppose this is the tension. People were designed to live in a tension, and if you run from the tension, you stop growing and you become stale, and I think that this mystery, for it is a mystery, is a mystery that we're not supposed to understand, and to say we've solved the mystery is as foolish as saying there is no mystery. As long as I live, I will continue to seek out the Mystery, but I don't know that I'll ever actually know it. Right now, I'm almost inclined to say that the mystery is that God would allow people such intimate fellowship with Him.

Lent

So, the lent season is upon us. let me preface this whole bit by saying that I've never before practiced lent, nor have I ever been compelled to. Peculiarly, and perhaps just as a symptom as the continuing change my world is being subjected to, I'm going to practice it this year, though it is almost half over. I've jumped on the bandwagon late, not for lack of motivation (well, sort of) or for being lazy. When we discussed at church what the meaning of lent was, I was certain that it was something I wanted to take part in, but I didn't want to just jump in and fast from stuff just because. That's the reason why I've always thought it was stupid in the first place. "I'm catholic, so I'm going to fast from chocolate. Y'know, just cuz." Even if they had reasons, I was unable to view them as anything more than that.

So, it turns out that lent is supposed to be the time that the new converts, those new to the New Covenant, would evaluate their beliefs and whether or not they were willing to take up the Christian path and all that implies. At the end of this period, if the cause of Christ is something they're willing to shoulder, they are baptized. They fasted for forty days (Sundays off as a time of celebration I do believe. Or rather, sabbath off more than likely) until easter. Easter was the time of their decision.

Why then do I feel compelled to partake in lent this year? I've been varying forms of Christian for over ten years. I was never baptized as Quakers reject traditionalism (and in so doing create their own brand of traditionalism), so I didn't seek it at all. Perhaps I'm participating as an extension of the fact that I've rejected contemporary church and church culture. I've even begun rejecting various theologies that I once held to with tenacious conviction. Concurrently, I've also become interested in not only the way the church used to function, but the way that Americans used to be, and I'm striving for those things. It's peculiar as my very much contemporized and Greek mind struggles with understanding certain things that I used to never question, as they were explained with that same Greek mind that I possess (not that I'm trying to do away with it, just understand the Bible as it was written), but unfortunately no one approaches anything, especially the Bible, with a clean slate. We all carry someone else's translation, teaching and understanding that we've adopted as our own.

If an extension of my own spiritual revolution is part of the reason for lent, it's not the whole reason. Two months ago I posted on whether or not I accept the divinity of Christ. It was far more than two months ago that that thought was presented to me, and more than two months ago that I've dedicated time thinking on this topic. It's been closer to six months; a half year. Recently, however, the question isn't allowing me to ignore it any longer. I read passages of scripture, and they come with a dual understanding. I hear someone speak, and I hear not only what they said, but perhaps the complete opposite, or sometimes just the things they didn't say.

This is not a topic I address or bring up lightly. Nay, quite the opposite. Just thinking this thought causes me immense nervousness; my heart pounds, I get hot, I start to sweat. This is no small personal undertaking. But here's the rub: people hear you say that you doubt the divinity of Christ, and they assume you're flipping out and becoming an apostate. Far from it! Whatever the conclusion I come to, I still would choose Yeshua, the only begotten Son of God as my Lord, Sovereign, my King and brother, my Savior, my MESSIAH. YESHUA MESSIAH. I choose Christianity: I love God, I love others, I love the Christ. It merely seems to be simple polytheism. Perhaps the result of catholicism: when the pagan and the holy merged, or the results of farther trekking. The Celtic celebrate, and have celebrated, a triune goddess for centuries. Perhaps as early, or maybe earlier, than Christ himself, all without the influence of Christianity. I merely seek to make sure my faith is pure and reconciled with my Jewish forefathers.

The difficult part is that sometimes a verse or passage makes far more sense of Jesus is a man as I, only so filled with the very Spirit of God that he is as though God. Other times, it seems as if He could only be God. It's confusing, and some would tell me this is the mystery. In no uncertain terms, I refuse to accept this as the answer unless it's the only one left to me.

So, how do I plan to go about this? Dayfast. I will fast until sundown, and everytime I'm reminded of my hunger, I will remind myself of why I do this and pray for wisdom. Pray for Truth and understanding. In addition, I will dedicate myself to not only my Jewish history and understanding (Torah), but the words of Jesus himself, and what others have said about him. I do truly ask for your prayers and help where it may become evident that it's necessary. I honestly don't know if I'll even have an answer by Easter, but it is my lent objective. Perhaps at the end, I will be baptized as a sign to myself and others that though I know not, I have not forsaken or been forsaken.

At the very least, God in his infinite mercy, has sided me with a group that though they may disagree or perhaps even be fearful for me, they won't dump me as I'm certain most other groups would do.

Sometimes God Will Answer a Prayer...

There's a guy I work with. He's a pretty good guy, though i had to work really hard to get to that conclusion. He used to drive me up the wall, and I looked forward to the days that he would be gone. Now, I mostly enjoy his company, though there are still a few times that he will bug me. Overall though, we've become good work buddies. We talk, we share food (mostly he brings me leftovers that his wife makes. Good stuff).

Well, our store's inventory is in May. Was in May. Anyways, was in May, and Kenny had preregistered for an out of country trip several months ago. Way before we knew when inventory was. Kenny knew that when he got his confirmation back, that the trip would be slotted for sometime in May, though he didn't know when, nor did he have any kind of direct control of this. Kenny figured he would be in the clear seeing as how last year, and the year before that inventory was in March. Turns out his trip was going to come up the week of inventory. The company has a policy that you can't take any days off (apart from your normal ones) the week of inventory, and everyone has to work mandatory overtime for inventory. It's mostly crappy because four people could get the whole thing done pretty quickly if they wouldn't use this stupid 3rd person system that they use. That's not the content of this blog however.

So Kenny was sweating bullets. He had put 600 into this trip for himself and his wife, an additional 600 for his mother in-law. He was already in for 1200 bucks for this trip, and he hadn't left yet. So, he presented his case to our manager hoping that he would be sympathetic. No go. He talked to the boss's boss. Still no go. He exhausted every route he could, so Kenny was planning to quit. I don't blame him. 1200 dollars is a lot to throw away on an imaginary trip.
When Kenny told me, I felt disheartened for him right away. I made off to the bathroom and sat on the floor and said a prayer. I felt a little sullen the rest of the day.

So, today I find out that the store in Colorado Springs is being downsized. The store is being reduced to half its size. As far as I know, that's the extent of this downsizing. No one's losing their job, their just making the store more manageable for the existing staff. So the store's being downsized in March, their inventory is in April. The manager's certain that he won't have the store in serviceable condition by then, so he asked our manager to switch dates with him. Our inventory is in April now instead of May, and Kenny gets to go on his vacation and keep his job.
It made me happy.

the pursuit of happy(i?)ness.

“There is no 'y' in happiness. It's supposed to be an 'I'.”

That's what Will Smith's character, Chris Gardner tells the Asian janitor, advising him in his repainting job of a day care center's front artwork.

“How did President Jefferson know to put the 'pursuit' of happiness in there?” Gardner muses while looking for change in his pockets.

These things struck me. There is no why in happiness, just I. I'm entitled to happiness, and it doesn't matter why. Should I have to ask why? Is happiness earned? Things I hadn't really thought of before.

The movie chronicles Chris Gardner, a real person about whom this account is created. The man scrapes the bottom of hell seeking a better future for himself and his son, betting nothing to gain anything. The movie was incredibly touching, that or I'm getting soft in my lengthy 23 years of life. Several scenes brought me to the blurred edge of tears, and it seems that Will Smith has found his acting chops, displaying maturity and a keen lack of “ruining it with canned one liners.” That is to say that, in this movie, the black man does not say, “that is whack.”

Something about the movie's underlying philosophy of “happiness, y?” has sort of splintered its way into my conscious. Couple that with the fact that Tom still resides, daily, in my thoughts, and I question “I”. What guarantee do I have that I will be happy? What right do I have to be happy? I don't. I have the right to pursue it, but mostly, as exemplified by Chris's son, contrasted by Chris's wife, happiness is an internal state. It's something that you live and exude, not something you seek or have. The son tells the father, after experiencing (and in the center of) these ordeals, “you're a good poppa.” Just before the trials start, the son, when asked, responds with, “yes, I'm happy.” Even during the trials, faced with his father's growing depression over the dark turn of his life, he exhibits many moments of childhood happiness. Chris's wife, meanwhile, seems only able to focus on her personal discomfort, and her own inability to happy, ignoring and belittling her husband's effort for a better life.

In what might be my favorite scene of the movie, Chris is playing basketball with his son. His son says he's good enough for the pro's. Chris picks up the ball, throws it at the basket and misses and remarks that, “you'll excel at many things in life, just like me, but, unfortunately, you'll probably get my basketball ability, and I never did too well. So, I don't want you out here every day and every night playing this trying to get your hopes up.” The son is obviously dejected and outright pissed. While putting his ball away, Chris says to his son, “don't ever let someone, even me, tell you that you can't do something. If you have a dream, protect it, pursue it, with everything you've got.” In reflecting in my own time on this planet, I experienced several conversations with my own father. Not once did I ever see my dad nay say a personal dream of mine. Not once. He was always telling me that whatever it is I wanted to do, I could do it, even going so far as to once say, “fuck 'em” to people who might try to step on or prevent me from my goals.

Which leads me back to the “I.” He's right. My dad is right. Chris Gardner is right. If you have a dream, you are capable of achieving it, which means that it's not the Y that gets in the way. It's the I.

The I leads me to Tom. Tom is an educated man, as he and I have said. He was a male nurse, living with a woman for fifteen years, a woman he regarded to be his wife. They had a home, he was doing well, and then things went to hell for him. A fire, an arrest, other details he didn't divulge. The tears Tom cried that night downtown are the same tears that Chris cries in the subway bathroom.

Tom has not left my thoughts yet. There was something in our connection, something I need to revisit. Focus on the Y.

Blankets in Denver

I went downtown with a couple of friends tonight to give blankets to the homeless. I've been downtown a few other times to give out food mostly. Hot dogs, sandwiches, hot cocoa. Every experience is unique, and I find that every time I go, a little more personal the experience becomes, if that makes sense. If not, hopefully it will.

Unfortunately, I've only been 3 times. You never forget the faces.

The first time, I talked with an elderly man who had a walker. He was overweight, had an impressive beard, glasses, needed dental work. I can't remember his name, but he loved star trek and devoured star trek novels. He was a patriot, ex-military, self proclaimed theologian and bible scholar. I enjoyed talking with him, and did so for probably thirty minutes. He also enjoyed hand rolled tobacco cigarettes. Unfortunately, I can't remember his name. Robert is the connection I've built with his face, so that is what I'll call him. I pray for Robert.

You find that most of the time, the men down there are not so far removed from yourself. In fact, they are mostly you, just with unfortunate circumstances, whether those circumstances be willed or forced.

Next, I had to convince my friend Mike to go. I told him it was both a blessing and an honor. An unforgettable experience. He acquiesced. We went down there, and ended up talking with 2 guys. A tall black man, who looked relatively nice for his time on the streets. “A street preacher” he called himself. He was very charismatic and excited. His theology was a little goofy, but damn if he didn't love GOD. I believe his name was Felix. He had been spending his time with a little old Thai man named Tom, I believe. His english was very hard to understand, and I didn't spend anywhere near as much time with him as I did Felix. He was very amiable, and encouraged all of us around him to make sure we get good educations so we didn't have to be where they were. Tom hugged us on our way out. I pray for Felix and Tom.

You find that these guys... these guys just want to talk to you. They just want to be heard. The best thing to do is just listen to them and talk with them. There is an infectious spirit here. Something that's hard to miss and not get caught up in. Whatever bizarre delusions you get about these men vanishes when you see them at their most vulnerable.

Tonight, 2 of our 3 membered party talked with a group of three men. Tom broke my heart. Seeing a man cry does something unnatural to your heart. Perhaps the problem is that it's too natural, but experienced too little. Tom told us how he has a job, a job he has to walk to, and it's not a convenient distance away. He has to walk for several hours before he gets there. He had been staying at Jesus Saves downtown, but got kicked out that very same night because they accused him of smuggling in a half gallon jar of vodka the night before. He said he didn't, citing that he had nowhere to hide it. I will assume he's telling the truth. It felt as if he was.

He told us a rending story of living in California with his girlfriend of fifteen years, and then faced a month of incredible hardship. His house burned down, his girlfriend was arrested, there were other events, events I didn't ask about. These events led him here to Colorado, where he continued to fail to get footing in his life. He's been on the street for a little over one year now. He feels that every time he's about to step on firm ground, the devil knocks him off. He cried when he told us he wasn't sure if he would wake up in time to get to work. He cried again before we left. He said that when he's just about at the end of his rope, ready to throw in the towel, give up, write it all off, strangers come along and give him a blanket. His metaphor saying, “GOD cares about me.” Tom's story is breaking. The man's educated: he's a male nurse and was relatively successful. He's smart. He knows, and he's lived. Now I can only assume he's sleeping on cold ground in downtown Denver. Tears gather at my eyes as I type this. I pray for Tom. Tom breaks my heart.

Todd was there too. Todd looked smart. Todd looked as if he was a character that knew more than he was telling, but was slowly laying his cards on the table, revealing things piece by piece. He did none of that with us, but he had that feeling to him. He admits that he is an alcoholic, and that's what keeps him there. He's been there for three years. He's quick to admit that it's his fault, however, and not the fault of others. He didn't divulge his story. He seemed content to sit and listen, eyes closed, mouth over his hand, pure concentration. He told us of kids coming downtown to give each person a dollar, and watching “the gluttons” come along and try to grab fistfuls of dollars from the hands of these children. “The dollar won't help you out of your situation,” says Todd. “The dollar is merely a symbol, a gesture. It's the kids saying, 'we know you're here, and we care.' That's what the dollar says. Trying to snatch the stack of dollars from the kids only steals their resolve. It hardens their heart to you and scares them. The important thing is to not stop what you're doing. Don't give up. You can't give up.” His story to us. He checked out early. He had a room at Jesus Saves and had to get to bed. I would have liked to have heard more from him. I pray for Todd.

Angel I heard the least from. He seemed content to listen, occasionally throwing out an anecdote or detail. It seemed clear that this talk was to be centered on Tom. Tom was the one having a hard time. Angel was clearly the youngest of the group, though still older than myself. He had been released from prison in August, and had been on the street since. He spent two years in prison, what for, we didn't ask and he didn't say. That's fine. It's in the past, and that's where it belongs. Angel looked like he was the closest to getting out of there, like he was the one that had adjusted quickest to his system, and the one to most quickly utilize it. He had a job, and a room at Jesus Saves. He and Tom got into a light theological debate about the nature of struggle, and what that means in the life of a Christian. All three men claimed Christ, and it felt genuine. Angel seemed pretty happy and less troubled than Todd and Tom. I pray for Angel.

The things that cause these conversations are kind of strange, benign, almost unseen and minuscule. I talked to Robert because whoever was first talking to him passed him off on me, not wanting to talk to someone who's going to nerd talk about Star Trek. I talked to Tom and Felix because Chelsea talked to Felix, Mike talked to Tom, and I didn't want to leave my friends, being the only two in the group I knew. I talked to Todd, Angel and Tom because an old man I'd given a blanket to shouted “GOD bless you,” and I shouted back, “God bless you, wait, let me shake your hand.” I shook their hands, then I talked with them for thirty minutes. Tom got a batman blanket.

I shook their hand.