The Occasional Side-Hug

In high school, Zach's soccer team called him "the Constipator." On and off the field, he congested any chance his opponents had at scoring. In high school, even though he wasn't popular, he had a reputation. But that's not important anymore. The Constipator, now attending a mid-size university—the kind too small for fraternities, but big enough for co-ed cheerleaders—now has a great task in front of him: reclaiming a status equivalent or greater than that from high school. "Ahhmmm," Zach said (meaning where do I start?) the first time he realized that he no longer held "the Constipator" title.

The students of Minnesota's Champlain University were not impressed by his new clothes (hand-me-downs from his sister), his faded khaki hair (a combination of a mullet with a comb-over) or his style of conversation (avoiding eye contact and moaning). Zach not only didn't fit in, he caused the rest of the student body to question their own personal worth and hygiene. His idea of health differed from most people's. While most students on campus believed in the "five-second-rule," for the amount of time food can spend on the ground before it's uneatable, Zach strictly followed the "it's not scissors rule." He ate many substances of food, but only Jell-O and Lucky Charms regularly. His idea of health differed from most people’s. Zach's skin above his right elbow elevated and formed two tones of a pink rash because he went the first week of school without a shower and refused to cover his thirteen year old, lily and rose patterned, mattress with sheets. "Ahhmmm," (meaning I feel sick) are the first words Allan (a navy student from New Jersey and the son of a butcher/hairstylist/jockey), Zach's roommate, heard from him as he emerged from under their bunk bed with his left hand in a warm chocolate pudding snack pack (only one week past the expiration date). In fact, most of Zach's first meetings involved pudding and sickness. Soon, Zach found out that people don’t like mixing pudding with sickness. Five out of the five students and teachers Zach met in his first week of school avoided him--he was a considerable distance from reclaiming "the Constipator" type status. Even so, he still managed to find the approval of his peers—kind of.

"Zach, if you jump off of that, I'll give you five dollars" Zach's dorm room neighbor, Taylor said. That's why Zach's ankles are swollen now. Some cantaloupes are smaller than the size of those ankles (a lot tastier too).The five dollar proposal served a more powerful role than an exchange of goods. In his mind, "I'll give you five dollars" meant "I will give you my respect and the occasional side-hug." Sacrificing his ability to walk was worthwhile. However, before this final attempt, he fought diligently to earn "the Constipator" status in the eyes of his school, particularly the group he lived with.

That particular group called themselves, "the Dirty Dozen." The Dirty Dozen, if any group could be, seemed like the perfect match for Zach. The group hated the radio because it felt that creative expression didn't grow there. The members appeared to hate it when groupthink hindered the innovations of the individual. Zach fit because he had creativity and operated as an individual. The campus acknowledged the Dirty Dozen by reputation: the group that lasted a week without showering. When Zach recognized the quality of this group he said, "Ahhmmm" (meaning "Finally, a group that will give me respect and the occasional side-hug). Their friendships were established during that week without a shower. In that time, differences, allegiances, or social status didn't matter. That week was beautiful and sacred to them. It was the start of something.

"Ahhmmm," Zach suggested to Allan in an attempt to find his respect.

"What? Why would you . . ."

"Ahhmmm."

"There's no way you can fill it up in two hours," Allan asserted and pointed to an empty gallon of water."

"Ahhmmm."

"Taylor, come here! Zach says he can fill this jug with pee by the end of the night," the whole dorm floor heard Allan shout. Taylor, accompanied with eleven floor mates, went to Allan and Zach's room. The room never was very messy, but always in accordance with Zach's health code—eight out of the eleven men accompanying Taylor refused stepping past the separated pieces of computer and pudding to enter.

"So you're going to fill it up in one hour?" Taylor asked.

"No. He's not filling that up in my room" Allan said to Taylor.

"Ahhmmm."

"There's no way he can do it. No way, man," Taylor said to provoke Zach.

"There's no way!" Taylor's eleven companions chanted.

"Ahhmmm," Zach replied.

"No way!"

"Ahhmmm." And Zach drank two liters of flat root beer. And Zach filled the jug plus six IBC bottles. Still, the group didn't give him any more respect than what a person who pees in a bottle deserves.

"Ahhmmm," (meaning maybe if I pull the fire alarm, the guys will respect me) Zach thought to himself. 2 am is when Zach's floor sleeps. Zach doesn't. Zach hammers on his carpet, and watches TBN. Hammering and TBN didn't get Zach the respect he wanted, so he pulled the fire alarm.

"Who pulled the fire alarm?" murmured the bloodshot crowd. Protocol requires that the dorm is evacuated in the event of a fire alarm. Because Zach stayed in his room, he didn't hear their murmurs. Unfortunately, Zach lost respect the night he pulled the fire alarm, and that's what led to the swelling of his ankles.

Besides the two failed attempts for gaining respect, Zach tried several times to integrate himself into the Dirty Dozen—the group that consummated their friendship through the week without a shower. Since then, they haven't included anyone else--it was more convenient that way. To them, adding a friend would be like rewatching three seasons of Smallville in order for a newcomer to catch up.

"Zach, if you jump off of that, I'll give you five dollars" Zach's dorm room neighbor, Taylor said. Zach stood over the fire escape, three stories up. "Ahhmmm" (meaning this is my chance to gain their respect) Zach thought to himself. This time the Dirty Dozen watched in amazement. With the rest of campus also watching, Zach still held his confidence, like a man that hasn't realized his fly is down. The blue railing separated him from achieving his glory—he lunged through it.

He jumped. He stuck the landing. Unfortunately, sticking the landing meant that his ankle swelled. All the momentum the forty foot jump developed halted as he said, while everybody watched, "Ahhmmm." The grass he landed on looked unaffected, but his ankle swelled to the size of an amateur cantaloupe. Zach looked more confused than hurt. It didn't matter, though. Because during the fifth second of his airtime, he felt greater than "the Constipator" could have ever. Even so, most people on campus still don't talk to him or give him the occasional side-hug. The Dirty Dozen took him in, though they aren't looking for any more friends.

The End.

Battle of the Banquets

Battle of the Banquets.

The lamb incident has been the talk of many circles here in Tulsa. In fact, someone approached my pastor and said, "I heard your worship leader went to sacrifice a lamb and then smeared the blood on all his people." My pastor was a bit concerned. Oh well. Since the first talks of Din-Din, four groups have formed to either kill him or save him. I got a call from Dean Boyd three days ago, and I'm not going to lie, I got excited. Dean Boyd is the master of the confrontation meeting, and I was going to take literal notes on how to deal with trouble (no figurative language here). However, the call from Dean Boyd was a hoax constructed by the Lambert on YB. I turned the Lambert for my effort, and had him call some of the other wings that wanted to kill the lamb. They never were informed that it was a hoax. I hope they don't get in trouble or get us in trouble. We're all lamb loving friends, and there is no reason for chastisement.

He brought me to His banqueting table.

Two events were fused together last night: the GUTS battle of the bands, and the banquet. It was a great night, and I would like to tell you about it. Let's start off with my date, Beth Zimmerman.

(Our hands look the same)

(She'd probably like the better picture of herself up)

To start off, we meet at 5:45 (an hour earlier than everyone else) because we were going to play at the battle of the bands. Neil met us there too because he wanted to follow us in his car.

(Yes, Neil is a stud)

(p.s. Neil dressed up only because we dressed up for our banquet)

Then, We all drove to GUTS and walked right in the rock band sub-culture. A lot of people don't know what it's like to be back stage with other bands. It's completely different than most of the life experiences a person has. I'm not going it explain it though. Maybe another time.

The facility was amazing. It had a great sound system, bright lights, fog machine, cameras, people, free food, and...

A banner with our name on it!

(My band's name is Symon)

Dressed to the max, as a group, we were groped with all the eyes there. It was in a good way, somehow.

Whenever our band plays, we have to wait till the last minute for everyone to show up. Truthfully, it has not happened in any of our shows that we've been ready 10 minutes before the show.

That's rock n roll.

As usual, we pull it off at the last minute, and play. But, this time we put a twist in our performance. Like I said earlier, I incorporated my banquet with my battle. We empower Beth, armed with a bass guitar, to announced and jam out with us--she was not plugged in. The audience didn't notice anything, and it was fun. Really fun. It seemed like she had a blast, and for that I'm glad. It was hernight after all. However, we didn't win, and it's not because we weren't the best band. I'm not saying that we were, but the competition was popularity and advertising based. Power to the people. Basically, whoever got the most people there, did the best.

Guts had four judges give public critiques of each band immediately after a band's performance. In ours, one of the judges called me the "most likeable bass player." Yeah...my band definitely beat me up after hearing that. Even Beth got a few punches in. Most likeable bass player, I'm grateful and all, but don't they know I have a lamb, and would kill it if I could find it. Just like a ninja, I might uppercut them if they did so much as drop a fork. Likeable, ha.

Right after the show, the lovely Beth and I cruised to the banquet. Good times. We ate food, danced, flexed and did other memorable things. The social coordinators planned this thing incredibly, but good company is what made the night. I have the best friends. You just can't beat good company.

(An example of good company)

Memorable activities.

Awards-

Roderick Hudson, my space sharer got the "Somebody's going to get raped, and it's not me" award. I'm not sure about how I feel about that.

Matthew Cooper, got the "When I was aborted award."

My layout for sharing events might be deceptive. I'm not going to list all the awards. Sorry.

Pradeepan Jeevamanoharan, got the "Ralph Nader" award. If you don't understand this joke, go to this site, and read the history. www.letpradeepanrun.com

Karaoke-

Beth had never done this before, and I generally enjoy it, so we sang "our" song in front of the masses. The song is "Up!" by Shania Twain. We had never heard this song before, and, naturally, didn't know the words. We made them up by singing about how the year was. I even started encouraging my chaplain through song. I know, not the most entertaining story, but the next one is good.

Cream-

I got the cream, used for the coffee, and danced with it!

(Cream!)

(Cream?)

We definitely had cream. Okay, maybe that's not a good story either.

Conclusion

I had a great night, but it's sad as well. I'm not going to be on this floor that rescued me. A freshly scarred Pradeepan went to MOG for restoration, and got it. Also, Beth is going to possibly be living in Japan next year, and I won't be friends with her anymore. Well, I won't see her anymore at least. Bummer man. It was a great night. Well done everyone! ( I would like to meet bummer man)

I have another banquet tomorrow. A girl named Shirley Q. is escorting me to the missions banquet, where the men are required to bring swords. I saw Shirley in the cafeteria, and, though we had never met, asked her to the banquet. It went something like this..."Hi, we've never met before. My name is Pradeepan." Then, Shirley said, "Oh...my name is Shirley." Next, I asked for a last name and she said "[enter something Spanish here]" She asked me my last name and I said, "Jeevamanoharan." And we stared blankly unable to pronounce each other's names. She said yes though. Hopefully I won't be blogging a horror story in two days. I did some research on her after she accepted. She checked out. She's legit, and I'm still hoping for a good time.

God has given me the best life.

(We long for acceptance)

By the way, the banquet ended with a 9 person Snugglefest, and we're having another one tonight.

Went to the Enemy's Camp

Went to the enemy's camp.

(All school devo worshippers)

The way God develops relationships can be so frustrating, but...

He knows what He's doing.

Tonight our school had "all school devos," and we discussed the concept of being real. The place where we should be the most real is in the church, but sadly that's where most people's id crises happen. The preacher mentioned that Alcoholics Anonymous credited a large part of its success to forcing people to be real. Right from the start the alcoholics state that they have a problem. My name is Pradeepan Jeevamanoharan and I'm an alcoholic and so on. God is really challenging me to be real with Him and myself. To acknowledge when I fall and keep trying.

Some friends and I led worship for the service. God really met us where we were. I sin so much. I give up on God a lot, but He refuses to leave me. Man, Jesus precedes me and follows me.

I am at the point where I will leave Christianity unless I completely sell out.

God is teaching me how to focus my life around Him, and to really bring the Kingdom principles into my life.

That was the spiritual part of my entry...

This story brings a chuckle to even the most docile of my body. The preacher led an altar call in one of those emotional atmospheres that churches dream of. Stuff was going down. Lives were changing. During the prayer time, I mentioned to Symon that we should sing "I'm going to the enemy's camp." The song is a real toe tapper and not appropriate for an altar call unless you're going hunting or something later that night. Symon said that he would sing a slow song first and then go into the song. Thinking that he was being sarcastic as I was, I laughed and assumed my worship position.

He played the song in a worship style...somehow. It fit, and my respect points for Symon increased by 20 points. The crowd really got into it...somehow. God definitely was smiling, and the Devil was probably frustrated. God was glorified. Fantastic, the boy did it.

God moved. Amen.

(Symon, Neil and I lead worship)

SnuggleFest '05

(The guys slept over last night)

The accident

My Miraculous Weekend:A Sneak Preview.

Pain.

Destruction.

Destruction.

Destruction.

Death.

Healing.

Restoration.

Rock and Roll.

Rock and Roll.

Rock and Roll.

No showers

There have been many times I haven't shared my thoughts of feeling (even stories) because I decided I didn't have time to do it well. It is time for that to stop.

My best friend Benjamin Block is not feeling so hot. He's thrown up several times and skipped a days worth of classes. This could be the result of living a legend for the last fourteen days.

The last fourteen days.

Starting with Thanksgiving Break, Ben has burdened himself with the responsibility of not showering. When I say "not showering," I mean no soap or water. Every once in awhile Ben jests that he had just "taken a shower on the basketball court," though. In those times, it's not unusual to see me laughing/gagging. It is quite gross, but also legendary. How many opportunities like this will he have? How many people are willing to Ski everyday during Thanksgiving Break, play basketball, throw up, and study without showering. On top of all that, Ben has chosen to operate incognito by way of "Molestache." I'm telling you, the man is a legend. It is a hard lifestyle (constant pressure from people, smell, lack of self confidence, rashes), though many benefits do come with it. The Ladies absolutely love it. They can't keep their noses off the pheremones. For example, we attended a party last Friday and girls would just stand in front of him and stare. Stare directly at him from within three feet. Eventually, the girl would say something like "that's so gross!" Attention is attention, and Ben got it.

Today he called his mother and told her about the situation (being sick). She doesn't know how long he has gone with out hygiene, but she recommended that he take a shower. So, he talked to me about it.

I did all I could to stop him. You know, a lot of people have tried to make Ben shower. They use all sorts of methods to persuade him: logic, facts, peer-pressure,threats and even Google Fight. In my personal quest of avoiding water for a week, I also experienced this. The funniest of the list has to be the threats. "If you don't shower, I'm going to lather you with soap and rinse you in your sleep!" With pure thoughts intact, that's never a real intimidating phrase. Anyways, Ben disrobed and headed for the bathroom.

I really didn't want him to shower, so I gave him a pep talk. And while he was in the bathroom, soap in hand, he decided that he just might go on to be dirty another day. Praise God. Right now, Ben is still sick, and resting.

Question: Do you face or turn your back to the shower?

The Important

I forget the Important. (I) Let's head back to my senior year in High School: Graduation. The whole school cheers because the Principal, over the loud speaker connected to each class, recently announced that Pradeepan Jeevamanoharan is the Class of 2003's Graduation Speaker. Let's head forward a week after that. Imagine a group of teachers, unable to hide their concern, approach Pradeepan Jeevamanoharan and inform him that he will not be able to give his speech. Many students, with equally concerned faces, start to gather. Then, the teachers develop their last statement: "The graduation speaker is required to graduate." Apparently, I, Pradeepan Jeevamanoharan, had failed my AP English class. I took two English classes that year, though I only needed one. However, since I took a higher English class, it replaced the credit of the lower level class. I forgot the Important: Graduation. The AP English class- rather, the Independent AP English class- did not require students to attend classes. Naturally, I forgot about the class. My english teacher allowed to make up all the work in two days. It wasn't the best quality, but she passed me, and I spoke. Speaking for my graduation class was a cornerstone in my father's respect for me, I think. This was the first time he heard me give a a full speech, and in front of an audience. Knowing that I wanted to be a preacher, and by hearing the compliments from his co-workers in the audience, my pride moved father, expressed his pride for me. (II) Let's head back to the summer of 2003: First year of college. For most people, this summer represents "the last summer" before childhood friends venture on their own. This was no different for me. Being the only one in my group of friends attending Oral Roberts University, I would be on my own soon. Understanding this prompted me to take advantage of every last opportunity. My best friend, Benjamin Joseph Block, and his family were soon moving to San Diego, California. He invited me to road trip with him. I agreed. His parents agreed. My Parents agreed. This would be our last "horrah!" However, Ben's parents decided to pray about it, and felt like the LORD told them not to let me go. So, I never got to go, and became angry. I forgot the Important: First day of College. Because I was at home, without my Ben, my dad encouraged me to fill out my loan information."First semester dates," or something like that, was one of the first questions on the sheet. Since the information concerning the date of the first day of school escaped me, I looked it up on [www.oru.edu]. "Interesting", I thought to myself. Registration starts today? I could feel the shame my father was soon to have, for his first son had forgotten about college. Most kids are counting the days until the first day of college, but not me. Instead of my planned flight, I had to drive. Also, I missed my going away party and then said goodbye to my mother at the hospital, as I took my immunization shots. Eventually, I made it to my first class. Praise the LORD. (III) Let's head back to today: Finals. Last night, I went to an amazing bachelor party for my college weekender host: Kurtis Gare. Going there, I felt free. I felt free because I took three finals yesterday, and I didn't have another one until Wednesday. I forgot the important: Finals. With this sense of freedom, I woke up at two o' clock this afternoon. Then, on the way to the bathroom, I ran into Todd Clingan. "Pradeepan, I was looking for you in the Missions final. Where were you?" Yup. You probably know what happened. According the Syllabus, if a student is absent during the final, he or she gets an automatic "F." Praise God that he is letting me take it tommorow morning! In conclusion, if I ask you for your name, or to go on a date, and I forget... Know that you are important, for that's what I forget.