And that is that.

Another year done, another semester finished. We (sophmores) are half done. Not even 2 years ago you could hear us saying, "Four years? Crazy."

Don't be a stranger, my family. Add me (roostermacdriver@hotmail.com) to your MSN list. I want to e-mail you, and I want to hear from you.

If you're kickin around lower mainland this summer, we are going to hang out. In...oh I dunno, a couple weeks? An all-you-can-eat sushi night? We'll see. Any news regarding this kind of thing you'll find on this webpage.

Please, PLEASE, I want to pray for you. E-mail me your requests, or post them here if you like, because there is no support like prayer support.

This is no goodbye, no, this is a goodhello. Be seeing you!

I am much more successful, after a night's sleep, to decide what will mark the celebration of ranDOMinion's birthday. I couldn't include them all, but I included my favourites--I think there are four missing.

Well! Have at 'er!

P.S. Sorry if it makes the blog really cramped. It's probably because your computer resolution sucks and therefor your compy sucks. But have fun anyways.

Well, in celebration of today's monumentous occasion, I thought it'd be appropriate to look towards what has built up to this day. But alas, reading back is hard work.

Then I thought, today's date also marks a day for the future. When I realized that I can't read the future, and have already spoken about the future of this site upon many occasions, I thought this aspect is best left out.

So is the day in itself, outside of time special? Not really.

In an effort to express the celebration of this site, its accomplishments and future hopes, it has instead indeed reflected the true desired nature of the site: to pertain to nothing and everything, to laugh and to cry, to think and to speak.

Happy Birthday, ranDOMinion! :D

It's a great blessing to be studying, and fully understanding the nature of cramming to the point of acceptance of a whole-night study experience. Even more of a blessing is to be plagued by distracting thoughts pertaining no relevance to the study material.

What is it that causes us to be vulnerable? Why are some openly vulnerable and comfortable within it? I would call myself such an individual. Otto calls me honest, I call me vulnerable. I am a horrible liar, meaning that I lie too often, for whatever purpose--I don't know. But I despise wearing a mask; I implore you, read right through me, know who I am and see through this facade I try so desperately not to perform.

I don't understand how to viably withold information, to understand the matrices of friendship and interpersonal relations, to a point where I may choose what to say and what not to say with intent on remaining distant and defended. This is an art foreign to me. As I said to a friend earlier today, "I can't think in terms of, 'He likes me, he doesn't,' it's just so different to how I think of people". She wasn't too impressed. I like to think I have nothing to hide. It's cliché, I know.

I have, however, hidden depression behind the mask of being tired. It's convenient when you work graveyard shifts to mope around grumpy and snappy; I'm sorry for putting you, my friends, through that.

But simultaneously, some are so completely uncomfortable with vulnerability. The cause? Past hurt? Yea. The memory of being hurt by whatever issue remains foremost in the mind, and issues warning not to allow anyone to hurt using this issue again. That trap is neverending, a loop that only causes withdrawl. I love you all too much to let that be; I pray for you by name.

Often I call myself a monster, and justly so. I have done things to deserve the title. Strange, that if I am not actively building up my friendships, I am subconsciously pushing them away. As I see it, my future is a lonely one.

In conclusion (and without want to sound like an essay), I enjoy sharing my life, both past and present with fine people. To be vulnerable, is to find the love of Christ in people, as you recount horrible things, but they only sit, accept and love. Should we be vulnerable more often? I sure hope I can be.

Well, I find myself with half an hour between arriving home from Wendy's and milk and cookies in the caf. I'm halfway through my book which has to be read for tomorrow. I should have finished it eariler... But atleast I won't be failing any classes! :D

I have chosen a few mottos upon meditation of the summer. I will attempt to make posters of each and have them up wherever I spend most my time.

First: "No, I'm Buying Slurpee!" This one's easiest since I already have the poster. It's a motto geared towards focus and attention where it's due. This summer: focus is on interning and learning. And making some kind of money I hope.

Second: "Handy Andy" I want to be able to be helpful wherever, whenever I can. I already have a few favours to fulfill as intern at RPC so this should be very interesting!

Third: "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." I am a bitter, old man in a young, fat man's body. I usually don't have much constructive or encouraging or uplifting to say, so I'm going to make a poster with Thumper on it saying these keen words in hope to remind myself of a better way.

Summer's going to be great, but not before exams are going to suck. I better get back on it.

I walk into this room. It's long infront of me. To my left there is a long stretch of steel rollers, the kind you attach together to make a sort of conveyer belt. To my right is a side room, where some of my christian friends are gathered. I go to my friends.

There are three billboards. On each billboard is a couple dozen photos of either people's faces or of animals. Infront of each billboard is one friend, and one person who seems to be in charge. He says, "Grab a photo and try to line up its silhouette with another one, this will determine if you're guilty or not." So, with the help of half a dozen people, and under this strange supervision, I start puting photos against each other. And some remarkable things happen!

First, some photos changed. Once two photos lined up they would change their appearance and become the same black blob on both sheets of paper. Some of them even swirled into the same piece of paper and locked together. I realized then that the photos on the wall were deeds done by my friend, and that by determining if he was guilty or not really meant if he's going to hell or not.

We finished putting his photos together and the ringleader guy takes off, but my buddy is left standing there, not knowing his fate. So we move on to the next billboard where another friend's deeds are pinned up, and we help go through them.

As I see that we're nearing completion on my second friend's billboard, I look over to the third to anticipate the work ahead, but am immediately griefstricken. It's my billboard.

Just as expected, I become very anxious and start pacing. My friends come over and they are comforting me but I'm still high strung. Then the ringleader for my billboard comes and the matching of photos begins.

They are busy hustling about this when I notice, even farther to the right from the beginning of the room is a second room, where another friend of mine is sitting. I recognise him to be my Sikh friend, and he looks very confused. I approach him and he says, "Where the hell am I?"

I answer him, "No, not hell. This is what we Christians call the afterlife, where the deeds of our lives are recounted and we are judged by God to enter heaven or to not." He gave me a look of understanding, but it was an understanding that went beyond a comprehension of words. It seems he understood and accepted since I had evangelized to him, and he had not accepted then, now that he sat in a judgement hall belonging to my faith he is surely doomed.

I pace back to my billboard where they were finishing up. "So, is it bad?" I ask them, but they are all silent. I mean silent. I turn around to see the rollers again, and back to the billboard, but everyone, including my friends are gone. Photos. Everything.

Someone pipes up from the rollers, "If they're packaged and ready to go, throw them in the fire!" He is referring to a selection of objects on the rollers. There are bamboo rods, lasagnas and caseroles, cotton swabs and q-tips--that I can remember. The fire he talks about is this tiny wood stove, the kind that is like a bubble with a little grate to open, and a smoke stack going up out of the room.

My thoughts are, "Surely, all of these things can not fit in here. There is just too much to be burnt. Am I ever going to find out about my trial?"

Then I woke up, much to my disapointment.

Remember long ago, I promised a new ranDOMinion?

Well, lately, as product of procrastenation I've picked it up again. I've had to reread a lot of old pages that I've created, as well as a lot of howto pages on the net, with regards to .css files and now html tables.

The result is more promising this time; I am better pleased. Of course, I've run into the usual snags: pictures don't fit, no blog to import yet and the obgligatory exams up and coming.

As my fingers type away I am waiting for MSN to re-sign in after it randomly disconnected me. By "it" I mean the school's internet. See, MSN is a solid product, and has no problem really. Some would quickly observe that yahoo mesenger here at school works fine, why not MSN? I would dare point to our mickeymouse server hardware and tell you because our internet passes through atleast 7 machines before contacting the outside world that MSN has troubles staying connected.

I would love to watch a kung-fu movie now. It is decided that I like kung-fu movies. Today's "Kung-fu Hustle" was quite...rediculous. But then again I suppose it was meant to be.

I think I speak for the entire student body here at Summit when I say that it's time to get the truck outta here. Cafeteria food? Quiet time? Curfew? RA'S?!?! I know I signed up, and I don't regret it. I've had my fill.

For some reason, today, of all days, I've noticed my conceitedness and irritibility. I dunno what's gotten into me.

Is it not amazing?

As deep a world that is my own, so it is equally deep for another. I have passions, dreams, troubles. So everyone else has these things.

You might ask, "How shallow is this randomandrew that he would suddenly discover people are not merely faces but have lives seperate from his?" I say to you, think of it this way: the people that are around you are simply not only around you, but you are also around them.

You are important to people. They think highly of you, just like you think highly of them. Their feelings, actions, reactions, words, are all chosen by a history unbeknownst to you. They are their own person.

An identity. A character. Just as I am, so they are.

Aujourd'hui, les nouvelles d'hommes foux sont en plaine force. Moi inclus.

Il est trop longuetemps que j'écris en français. Hier, je parlais avec une amie et elle m'a encouragé à tapper mon blog dans cette langue, belle comme nil autre.

Elle m'a aussi montrée son livre francais-polonais. C'est un peu drole, la langue polonais; il contient un "W" seul, come s'il est voyelle.

En tous cas, je me suis rendu compte de tout la travaille et les études qui m'attends. J'aimerais bien les brulés, en tout conscience, en esperant de les jamais revoir encore.

La fin.

Oh, je pense que les lettres accentées sont montrer d'une façon ridicule.

The following post is an attempt to open the discussion on pranks performed here at Summit Pacific College within the last semester.

Pranks as a whole are fun. Their intent, for the prankster, is to relieve stress, or cause laughter on the behalf of the prankee. Maybe also, a prank is a thorn in the side, or a deviation from the everyday norm. I like pranks.

Namely, these pranks in question are: "Backwards Chapel Pews", "Vaselined Door Handles" and "SPC Annual Car Show".

Firstly, the "Backwards Chapel Pews" prank. This prank, performed middle of March, still remains unclaimed by any individual or group (at least to public knowledge). Many are quick to point fingers, and suggest some key individuals, and others have incriminating photos on their computer desktops.

I'll admit, I had a good laugh walking in the chapel Tuesday morning only to find eveyrone congregated in the foyer, yapping away, while a few men hauled the pews up and around so the service would go as planned.

Becuase this prank remains unclaimed, the entire student body has been fined for the "re-fixation" of the pews to the floor on their pegs. Twenty dollars per student.

Next is the "Vaselined Door Handles" prank. April First, who can resist? Some door handles were smeared with vaseline. I heard, but did not see, that other various objects were vaselined. This is kinda funny since all you want to do is open the door, but can't, or it's plain just too yucky.

This prank, also unclaimed, also cost the entire student body. You guessed it, another $20 per student. It's getting lame. In fact, pay me $20 and I'll wash all the door handles! Why are they rolling in over $4,000? The prank in itself is funny, but its welcome is tainted by the aftermath of the "Backwards Chapel Pews" prank.

Lastly, is this morning's "SPC Annual Car Show" prank. I sincerely hope that this is not an annual happening. Between 3am and 5am about a dozen cars were moved from the Holdcroft residence parking lot to the P.S. Jones parking lot. Some cars were broken into. The cops were called. We're talking grand theft auto.

But alas, the culprits confessed their crime, and its intended good nature, and in return offer to wash the stolen cars. Poor timing? Yes. Theft isn't funny around here. We've see a lot of laptops go missing, and a friend of mine tells me of various tools and other trinkets gone missing from his room. Also, it's stress season and nobody wants to find that their car is missing.

Good job keeping this prank tasteful and in good community, but bad timing. I'm thankful they didn't take my car, or I would have lost it. Lost my cool and my salvation.

I agree that this school needs to lighten up sometimes. We've become this pretensious group of yuppies who scoff at anything remotely funny. Pranks, when tasteful, may acheive this goal: to remember we are all human and we all need to laugh.

Maybe we've seen enough pranks for the year? I hope so. You can tell by the attitude of the institution that there is no tolerance for tasteless pranks. They don't even offer warning now; any unclaimed prank assesses the student body a $20 fine each.

Here's an idea: why don't you fill someone's office with balloons? Balloons make people happy; they're associated with happy times, celebratory times. Not only does it brighten the day, but someone get's to pop roughly 750 balloons! How great would that be?

Once upon a time, there was a man. His name was Homer. He had a funny, straight-like body, and his neck bends back a lot.

People love Homer. You see, if you rub his head, he gives you candy. Everyone loves candy; you might even say that they don't love Homer, but love his candy instead.

It's not very often that Homer gets to replinish his candy supply. See, people are constantly rubbing his head, but he's never refilling his pants with candy.

Candy, candy, candy. That's his life! He's no where without it.

Homer has some friends; they're all about the candy too. Unfortunate for him though, he doesn't get to see them. Ever.

You all should find his friends! WHERE ARE HIS FRIENDS.

---

If you have no imagination, continue reading. If you think you know what Homer is, and have the ability of creativity and have some sort of intelligence, then do not continue reading. Clearly, there can be no conflict between these two circumstances as one negates the other.

If you are still reading, then you suck, and I am going to spill the beans for you. "Homer" is a PEZ dispenser. Candy. PEZ. Bendy neck. Yea.

What happened to all my fellow writers?

ranDOMinion is made up of five writers, six if you include ranDOMpoet... How is it that 11 of 12 of the last posts are mine?

In any case, today I made an attempt at opening my shell, for someone to see. It's a strange thing, to be vulnerable. I'm not sure I like it too much. Thank you for tolerating me, those of you who have.

I haven't had a phone call for a while. You who reads this, please phone me?

For the fifth night in a row, I will now fall asleep watching a movie. Tonight is "Anchorman".

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: When we speak to ourselves in our heads, using our "inside voices", we speak to ourselves at 1300 words per minute.

I have sat here thinking, thinking, thinking...

I've had 1300 different ideas in the last minute. None of them are worth expanding, none of them worth mentioning. Maybe one, and that is I tried to convice Dave to call me a monster, but to little success.

The end of the year is upon us. I have a lot of work to do if I am to have any level of success to show for of the last four months. This should be an interesting couple of days.

I hold in my hand a jewel. This jewel is unlike any other. Sure, it glimmers in the light, dazzles the eye.

But this jewel nourishes. It wraps around you like a warm blanket, permiates you like a walk in the rain. It is the jewel that with genuine care and passion looks deep inside you, square in the eyes without fear, to ask you your discomforts, your troubles.

This jewel knows no boundaries. It exists neither in the physical, nor spiritual realms, but rather surrounds all existence. The only means of escaping it is to fully reject it.

To do that would be treaturous. I offer this to you; a gift. You can not accept it and put it away somewhere in hope to forget it. No, this stone, this compound of elements is too compelling to forget. Instead, you would revel in it daily, as it amazes you incessantly.

I hold this marvelous jewel in my hand, extended for you to take. Will you receive it?

What does it mean to be cold?

Is the temperature of the room outside of the body lower than which is within? Do we sense a lack of heat, of energy, as cold is not negative energy, but is lack of energy? Is it a condition of comfortability? Do we feel cold simply for the sake of feeling? If we never felt cold, could we feel the warmth?

Is our reaction inadequate to the response needed, or supposedly required? Do we sense a lack of caring, of emotion, as cold is not a negative emotion, but is lack of emotion? Is it a condition of comfortability? Do we feel cold simply for the sake of feeling? If we never felt cold, could we feel the warmth?

Is the distance between two bodies too great, that the machinery of God is too weak to make the two bodies know their presense amongst themselves? Do we sense the lack of proximity, of presense, as cold is not a negative closeness, but is lack of presense? Is it a condition of comfortability? Do we feel cold simply for the sake of feeling? If we never felt cold, could we feel the warmth?

----

And so the mice run amuck, endlessly, incessantly, to no end, with no destination in mind, no purpose, no trigger, no beginning. Why do they run? Why don't they quit.

To my left, above the horizon, an army of heads appear, stretched out for a mile, bouncing in unison. They come from some far off land, somewhere I may never visit. They wear red helmets, and carry large guns. I can hear their feet on the ground now, trampling any obstacle in their path. They carry a red flag, proclaiming their queen.

On my right, just as far, marches another army. Their discipline, their intensity, their ferocity parallels that of the first army. They carry swords, but march quickly and softly infront of large cannons. They carry a green flag, proclaiming their queen.

These two armies will quickly converge, right where I am standing. In the amount of time it takes them to get here, I can not escape the width of their ranks.

A bang, and a cloud of smoke, followed by two armies yelling their war cries. The sound is inescapable, they come from all around now. Explosions to my left, bullets creasing the air all around, exlposions to my right. Dieing all around.

Surely these armies will dwindle themselves. Surely many lives are lost, and the war will wage on beyond this battle.

The question remains, which queen's troops will persevere? How long will I stand, unwaivered, unharmed, unscathed, waiting for a victor?

Surely there must be a victor.

I want to say something profound...

You know the kind. A phrase to echo the reccesses of a troubled mind, only to revert back to reality a sense of purpose and determination, where otherwise it was simply a collection of words.

"With a collection of words, we can echo into the reccesses of troubled minds a sense of purpose and determination."

Though the trick is to make it universally applicable. Profound phrases do not necisarily appeal only to troubled minds. In fact, some of the most profound things said appeal to all who read it.

"With a collection of words, we can echo into minds a sense of purpose and determination."

Who is to say that the outcome of any phrase would either be purpose or determination? Seriously, to someone who struggles with belonging, or a reason for their existence, it may speak purpose to them; to someone dealing with failure, they may here determination. But to anyone else, that phrase is useless.

"With a collection of words, we can echo into minds a wonderful uplifting."

Perhaps instead of opening up the phrase to mean anything, narrowing it down might paint a clearer picture. "A wonderful uplifting" is great, but does that really mean anything?

"With a collection of words, we can speak love into minds."

For a stronger impact, instead of stating what you can do, you might choose to just do it. To what effect to we acheive simply by talking about things, instead of doing them.

"Speak love into minds."

-----

...I wonder if this is really profound... or did I just pull that out of my ass.

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Ingrédiants: Arachides, huile de soya et/ou d'arachide, sel.

PEUT CONTENIR DES TRACES D'AUTRES TYPES DE NOIX.

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Today I am reminded of an old game I played only a handful of times. It's called "Genghis Khan"... although I'm sure it had some kind of catchy phrase in the title like "World Domination" or "Empire Management" or "Rules All"...

Really, it's a DOS based global domination game, involving factors such as trade, economics, turn-based graphical strategy battles, native uprisings...

For years I thought I was the only person on the face of the planet who knew of this game until I met Matt Liable. Aparently, we share passion for this game. Now, together, instead of individually, we are unsuccessful in finding a copy of this game ANYWHERE.

In any case, I need to find me some pointy chop sticks... or ones with grip?

And also, my t-shirt "take off eh?" is currently telling americans in south-central Washington to take off. How rad?

And also, my car and Jeff's car are each parked within a couple inches from Sarah-Lynn's car on either side. I find it rather hiliarious. (Actually, at this present time, only my car is, and Jeff is out somewhere, but hopefully he parks in the right spot again.)

And also, FRIENDS STICK TOGETHER.

And also, can anyone tell me where I can buy those damned Alien Organisms for $100/unit? I have found somewhere to sell for about $1200.

I wanna break some school rules.