Terminal 2 Concourse F [journals]

Entry7_Just landed in Chicago. I'm sitting in Terminal 2 and already feel sick about buying internet time. Just so we're straight, this post cost me around $1.23.

The F in concourse F stands for Fox.

I’ve been here 20 minutes and I’m already in foreign territory. The accent is different. The clothing is different. The whole feel of the place is, of course, something I’m very used to having spent more than half my life living within a five-hour drive of this terminal. I’ve been out for three and a half years and it’s clear I no longer belong here. I keep thinking of those Kanye lyrics and wondering if I was restless in the Midwest.

My Solitude [journals]

Entry6_I’ve been walking to the gym lately. It’s 1.1 miles each way. I take Green Street, which means there’s less noise and fewer pedestrians. I’m finding the 40 minutes of walking good for my soul. Sometimes I reflect on my day. Other times I think about my life, friends and family. But most of the time I’m busy playing that game where you can’t step on any lines in the sidewalk. Like I said, it’s been good for my soul.

South Park [journals]

Entry5_I'm watching South Park. It's the first time I've ever watched one all the way through. The little kids are building a ladder to heaven to see there friend Kenny who died. The government gets involved and decides that Saddam is in heaven builing nuclear weapons. Bush then goes to Capitol Hill and calls for the US to bomb heaven. In the end, they decide that heaven is more an idea than a reality in the sky. That instead of trying to get to heaven, they need to "bring heaven to earth." Have Trey Parker and the South Park gang been reading N.T. Wright? Or is this just good humanism?

Green Beans [journals]

Entry4_I’ve had green beans every day for the last 3 weeks. But apparently, vegetables from a can don’t count as much. I say it’s still better than my alternative. Peanut M&Ms.

I’m 27 and I already feel like I’m in a weekly fight with getting’fat. Sometimes I swear He is lurking around every corner looking to invade and occupy. Especially in those places around my waist. I try to reason with Him. At least head for my calves or even my hands would do.

I refuse to get fat. And as long as I can control my body, I’m going to stay healthy. How hard is it to eat healthy and exercise daily? Seriously. If I can’t do that, what else can I do?

Political Christmas Music [journals]

Entry3_My pre-bed ritual goes something like this (and may or may not include brushing my teeth): I turn off all the lights in our studio apartment. Then I put some music on over the iMac. Tonight it’s got some Christmas flavor. Namely Remy Zero singing “Some Day At Christmas” and John Lennon singing “Happy Christmas” with the Harlem community Choir (often though, it’s something like “Everything’s Not Lost” by Coldplay). I turn on the fan to divert the noise that’s all around our building. These nights I turn on the heater because I think it gets down to around 50 degrees at night and we don’t have central heating. I sadly unplug the Christmas tree. Finally, Kari and I look at each other and discuss a time we’d like to wake up. Usually it’s a ridiculously early time like 9:30am. Then we crawl into the cave where our bed is. Some nights, after about a half an hour, I quietly crawl out of bed and read, which is a common act for most S.O.F.M.S’s.

Spouses of Former Mono Sufferers.