August 13th, 2001

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Renton

I haven't been to Renton since my parents visited and stayed here a couple years back. Oddly enough, the church that's hosting the training I'm attending today is located adjacent to the campground where my parents stayed. They'll get a kick out of that, and now I know how to get here by bus in case they come and stay here again.

The training is for a church management computer system. I hate trainings like this-- there's only about 15-30 minutes of actual information I need, but a whole day of talking. Trainings by definition tend to be geared toward those having the most trouble grasping the material. That's usually not me, especially with computer stuff.

Being in this church is very strange. It's a "churchy" church, in the contemporary cookie-cutter style. Even so, and even as flippant as I can be about the style, it still tugs at something deeper in me, a question of my heart. What's happened to my relationship with God? When I was more part of the evangelical subculture, there was something genuine in me that desired God, that longed for holiness. That feels less certain now.

I hope I'm not just wallowing, because it's an honest question. I've got to wrestle with it. May Christ meet me in my wrestling.
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Home again, home again

So I ditched out of that training an hour and a half early. There just wasn't a thing I couldn't have picked up on my own with some hands-on time and a help file or two. I was the only male in the training: a room full of boxy beige Wintel boxes and a few too many "church secretary" stereotypes. Clearly, I'm not the target audience (nor should I be-- just don't make me go!!!!).

Bus ride home was just too warm and sweaty. I'd filled my daily people quota already, and I'm a big weenie about heat. Bought a new lunchbox while transferring busses downtown. More accurately, it's an insulated lunch sack. But it looks cool, and I don't think the urge to have the coolest lunchbox ever really goes away.

I have no room in my life for P. Diddy. Isn't it like 14:58 on the Warhol stopwatch o' fame for this guy?
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