I Always Hate Turning On Lights Everywhere I Go

Hello!

Thanks for checking back here! Usually once school starts and people start doing “college stuff,” people kind of start to trail off into their studies. Hopefully this is a welcome distraction; if not, eh, why not make it one.

So, I have to start first by talking about perhaps the most exciting thing this week…my Aunt Luanda successfully drove her 1954 Ford F150 down the street to the post office where the office had been stock-piling her mail since 1996. It’s truly an amazing story…if it were true. Of course I’m talking about the Steelers thrilling and much deserved win over the (overrated) Indy Colts team, 21-18. Now, if I’m keeping track of what the score of the game should have been, I’m counting 31-10, at least. Pittsburgh truly thrashed the Colts, and I don’t even think my good ol’ pal from Indy, Mike Gallo, could argue that. The O-Line couldn’t keep the pressure off Manning and he was colder than the shoulder I always receive when I ask cute girls at the Pretzel Gourmet if they would like the regular- or large-sized Smoothie. Troy Polamalu was the most insane player on the field for Pittsburgh. Nick Harper deserves major props on the Colts side. Here’s a guy that gets slashed with a knife to his knee requiring three stitches the night before, injures his other knee during the game, makes some key tackles, and finally the fortunate fumble recovery that could have won the game had not Big Ben made the Pontiac Game-Changing Performance of the year. Anyway, the refereeing was the worst I’ve ever seen. Pass Interference, a no-call on a false-start/offside penalty, and the biggest abomination in sports this millennium: Troy Polamalu’s interception called an incomplete pass?! Troy intercepted the pass with his right hand, clutched it to his body, hit the ground with his left elbow, then his right arm, then touched with every single body part besides his pancreas (I think I even saw a tooth touch), before attempting to get up whereby he knocked the ball out of his possession with his left knee (a fumble), which he then recovered. A long sentence, yes, but here’s my theory on what really happened:

CBS Exec: Oh boy, guys, we’ve really got ourselves into a pickle now. The Patriots lost, now the Colts could lose…no one is going to watch the Steelers and Broncos, there’s no storyline there! We have to overturn this!
Ref: [enters replay booth, making caveman noises] Uhhh, why me here?
CBS Exec: We have no storyline for the game next week unless the Colts win, make up a rule to overturn this penalty.
Ref: Ug, um, there no rule
CBS Exec: Yes, yes, I realize, we need the Colts to win, go ahead, make up some crap and give the ball to the Colts, thanks. [click]

Honestly, if those refs with a clean conscience called that replay indisputable video evidence that the interception was photoshopped into Troy’s hands, I’m going to watch Synchronized Swimming from now on.

There was a major breakthrough in the science world last week. Apparently scientists in Taiwan have successfully bred the first “through and through” fluorescent green pigs. Yes, these pigs have been genetically mutated to exhibit a glow-in-the-dark skin tone that turns “torch-light bright” when blasted with a black light. Taiwanese scientists hope to use there genetic mutated pigs to further research on human stem cells. Brilliant! Allow me to be the first to sign up when they offer fluorescent human skin. I always hate turning on lights everywhere I go. Can you imagine the pork loin you’d get from those swine? Yum.

So time at the Pretzel Gourmet has been interesting. I would complain thoroughly about one new fellow who doesn’t quite stack up to the rest of the PG crew and with whom I got in a little odd confrontation, but I’ll give you an abbreviated story. So, Johnny (identity protected) showed up exactly one hour late to work the first day I was supposed to meet him without giving me a call. Okay, so bad first impression, but whatever. I open the next day and the store looks like garbage, and the owners called and I made them aware that the store looked as disgusting as Auntie Anne’s and they instructed me to jot down all of his shortcomings (pertaining to labor, duh). My list was pretty lengthy, and at the end I wrote something I shouldn’t have, but at the time I thought would have helped him work harder (since I understood that he was already on strike two). In short, I told him to put some pride into his work and that he did a good job other than the things I listed and that I was confident he could do better. Well you don’t pull on Superman’s cage and you don’t spit in the wind at the Pretzel Gourmet anymore according to Sir Johnny, who wrote me a note saying that I shouldn’t tell him how to do his job, and proceeded to write down the parts of my job I didn’t do (which, objectively, were exaggerated half-truths, and not near the extent of his lateness and poor closing). Alright, so I step out into the store and it looks like the filming of Twister 2 took place on-site in the Nittany Mall. I was displeased, but not surprised. So Saturday rolls around, and I’m thinking this kid is going to start busting caps in me even though I’ve only seen him in person for two minutes, and he confronts me during busy time. Beforehand, I had really been regretting telling him to take pride in his work, and repented for that and prayed that his heart would be opened. In our conversation at the store, if you could call it a conversation (it felt like a lecture to me), he refused to hear my calm argument. I did manage to get my apology out, which was all I wanted, and I still have nothing against him, I feel sorry for him. He was scheduled to leave at five and he left at 4:30 without telling me and with customers waiting. Needless to say, he was fired. I pray that God would be with him and help him through his obvious struggles.

Since I’ve been working daylight shift at the PG and no one frequents the mall, I have a lot of time to think. One such thought came to me yesterday. I’ve decided officially that I desire to be British. If there were a way for me to revoke my Americanness and trade it in for the original Red, White & Blue, I jolly well might. You see, while helping a British family at the register for about three separate visits within an hour, I fell in love with the dear chaps and their hilarious selves. I’ve met about three British people in my life, one in my family, and the other two yesterday, and I have to say they’re some of the jolliest, gentlemany people I’ve ever known. I’m pretty sure I was destined to be British and somehow have found myself on the wrong side of the pond. Firstly (or should I say lastly?), my last name is Constable, clearly British or United Kingdom-esque and would be a much respected and revered name in the Isles. Furthermore, I think I could pull off the look. Just give me some new threads and enable me to debrace the work of my braces when I was a young sprout and I’d have the teeth, nose, and fantastic fashion sense to fool any Englishman of old. And also, my favorite band (and the greatest band of all-time), Athlete, is from there! Finally, and perhaps the best part, the bloody language. Let’s just have a sample of the conversation I had with a British man (Robert let’s call him) and woman (Anne), both about my age.

Tyler: Hi! How can I help you?
Anne: Hello, sir!
Robert: Hello good chap! How is your day going?
Tyler: I’m doing fine, thank you. Uhh, can I get you something?
Anne: Yes, sir. What’s the difference between your large and small hot dogs?
Tyler: Well, the large hot dogs contain a quarter-pound of the meat, and the small ones are…smaller.
Anne: Oh that’s mighty fine. I’m sure a small hot dog will suffice.
Robert: Yes, yes, a small hot dog will do.
Anne: May I have a small hot dog please?
Tyler: Sure [rings it up]. Anything to drink?
Anne: Ah, a bottled water do ya have?
Tyler: [Having already had too much] Yes.
Anne: Oh great! I’ll have one of those as well.
Tyler: [retrieves hot dog and accepts cash] And for you, sir?
Robert: Ah, I’ll have a small hot dog as well.
Tyler: Anything to drink?
Robert: Ah, brilliant…eh, do you perchance have a medium Diet Coke?
Tyler: Yep. [rings it up]
Robert: Cheers!
Tyler: [Retrieves food and accepts payment] Thank you, sir, you both have a good day.
Anne: Oh thank you so much. You do the same, sir!
Robert: Yes, likewise. Have a fantastic day m’boy!

After their dismissal from the counter, I could not help but smile at the completely adorable exchange that had just expired. But as the voices rang through my head for the next few minutes, I decided that the girl’s voice was the greatest voice I have ever heard. Yes, you can take your Brent Musberger’s, Joe Buck’s and Al Michael’s and drive to Indianapolis to attend Peyton Manning’s Pity Party 2006; I’ll take the voice of that sweet lovely young British girl at the store yesterday. I fancy I shall hear it again someday. Brilliant!

I want to take a quick moment to give a shout-out to Roland and Rebecca. Roland complained that in my last entry I didn’t talk about our Wing Night Adventures. After I informed him that they weren’t really adventures and merely trips to Prospector’s on Thursday nights for really good wings at a minuscule price and cheery conversation, he blushed and ran away. In fact, Roland and I did go on an adventure. After we dropped off Rebecca, we went rummaging through Wegman’s! I’ve only been there a few times, but that place is ridiculous. We actually only went to check out their dessert displays, which are ridiculous, but they had shelved them for the night. So we went to the international section and I learned that all just-add-water bowls of noodles manufactured in Asia are spicy. Jolly good time! Regardless, the JOP’s live on, and this Thursday will mark the season finale. We’ll have four there Thursday (hopefully, Nev! [angry parent look]) and it should be a good time.

Guitar has been coming along decently. I’ve written a song, or at least I have thought of a song and I sing it at work and I’ve tried to put chords to it but I’m not sure if they’re correct. In any case, it’s a sweet song but not yet publishable or performable, I’m just giving you all the heads up.

It has taken me two days to write this entry, and I feel more sorry for the readers than I do myself (even though it takes me a good 2-3 hours to do this). I was sitting at the PG today looking out into the mall and realized how truly blind I am. Place anything more than four feet in front of my eyes, and I can’t make out any details. I see an outline and if I’ve been exposed to it at this distance numerous times I’m sure I could identify it, but otherwise, my eyes are useless. My eyes only see what is near, what is immediate, what is now, in detail. I’ve been thinking a lot about my calling lately. I’ve been delving through scripture, reading Max Lucado’s Cure for the Common Life, and praying and praying and praying, and today I’ve made a connection. My eyes and their deficiencies are just like my connection with my Father; I can only see what’s in front of me, what’s now. God doesn’t want me to see more than four feet in front of my eyes because I have trouble enough seeing three. When I’m praying, I’m asking for God to give me perfect vision, eyesight that will allow me to see my destination in life, my purpose and calling, which will allow me to reroute my life towards that goal. Life doesn’t happen that way. He’s not going to tell me, “Psst, hello, Tyler, here ya go! I want you to drive the space shuttle in 2028 to Mars to obtain the cure for cancer!” Nope. Nor will I hear, “Okay, quit asking me! I want you to teach Calculus in State College for three years, then four years in Kentucky, and then become a sports broadcaster for ABC until Joe Paterno dies, which will happen in 2054.” But that’s what I want. I like seeing the road. Why? So I can make sure I get there. Oh wait, there’s the problem: it’s not about me. Nope, try again. It’s not about me being comfortable, or “well-off,” or famous, or self-absorbed; it’s about Him. I want to see His plan for my life so I can get there. Again, wrong pronoun. He is the one getting me there, not me. I’m not in charge!! How can this be? If I’m going to please you, I need to know what to do! And God replies, “I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out – plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.” (Jeremiah 29:10-11 Msg) As a believer in Christ, the future I hope for is one that pleases God my Creator to all praise is given! If that is my true hope, God has a plan for it and he’s executing that plan today just as he executed it yesterday and will execute it tomorrow and all tomorrow’s to come. I’m not in control! What?! Are you nuts! Get it back! Ever think that God could prove his love to be all the greater by taking away control. If I knew the plan and were in control, I would mess it up. I’d draw a straight line to the finish and end up crawling over mountains until I sat down frustrated that I’ve lost my way. So what does God do? How do we get there if we don’t know where we’re going? He lets us do what we can do. He says, “Tyler, talk to this man,” and “Tyler, read this and tell me what you think.” He loves me too much to say, “Tyler, your purpose in life is to teach English in Germany,” because he knows I’m the kind of guy that will be on the next flight to Hannover, looking up private schools on my laptop all the way. And I miss the point: Him. If I do it all on my own, then where along the way can I say that God was responsible, that God deserves the glory over me. I can’t.

Max Lucado writes in It’s Not About Me:

“He knows your limitations. He’s well aware of your weaknesses. You can no more die for your own sins than you can solve world hunger. And, according to him, that’s okay. The world doesn’t rely on you. God loves you too much to say it’s all about you. He keeps the cosmos humming. You and I sprinkle sawdust on oil spots and thank him for the privilege. We’ve peeked under the hood. We don’t know what it takes to run the world, and wise are we who leave the work to his hands.”

It’s not about me! And thank God it isn’t, I don’t want that responsibility. It’s all about Him; and Him working out His plan for His glory. I’m merely sprinkling sawdust. Thankfully, my eyes can only see four feet in front of me clearly. Sure, you can give me glasses, contacts, or surgery, but those are all temporary fixes that merely hide the facts. My job is not to see far away, but to see close. My job is to look for Him in the things I can see. What good is it to look at things far away? It will only be blurry and I will end up making costly conjectures. “But if you have trouble seeing things four feet in front of you, how do you expect to see God who is infinitely far away? someone will ask.” Nay; I like to think that God is not infinitely far away but infinitely close and I just haven’t the strength to focus. All I can hope for are quick glimpses of Him at work and have faith that God will work all things out according to His plan. And when it’s all over and I’m reunited in Heaven, He will give me new eyes that will see all and I will behold the most glorious sight of all, the face of my Creator and the fullness of his glory!

I’m pumped now…but it’s time for bed. It’s time for yet more God-pondering and pretzel-producing at the Gourmet tomorrow morning.

Later days!

I Was Robbed at Cane-point by an Elderly Gentleman on His Way to Albuquerque

Welcome!

So I was looking at my old LiveJournal, and it was looking pretty horrific. Seriously, the thing was varying shades of bad and wasn’t attractive by any stretch of the imagination outside the handsome Steelers logo. So I’m here, and I feel a little better in that I have my own website by some stretch of the imagination and it looks way cooler than the other side of the pillow as of now.

However, this place is much more sophisticated and I feel as if I have to have a BA in Computer Science just to indulge in its majesty. Who knows, by varying shades of bad may be my home, but I’m going to enjoy my run here while I can.

It has been a really embarrassing long time since I have updated and to attempt to bring everyone back up to speed with my life would be first, very uninteresting in the long run, second, very taxing on my mind, and third, a bad idea. So I’m going to stick with the new, rant about a few things that have been on my mind lately, and see where this goes.

I’m starting to think that by having a “blog” I am therefore condemned to write about what irks me in the political, economic, or worldly realm. The difference between a blog and a journal probably should be different, but I’m not going to let that scare me. Perhaps I’ll keep things a little more professional, but I prefer to be my usual, ridiculous self than to give in to hoity-toity establishments.

I opened Explorer today and the first headline included the words “Joe Pa.” Before I read the content, all I could think was, “oh geez he died!” As the page loaded, I remembered that Joe Pa is (duh) immortal and went on without skipping a heartbeat. The story, found here said that Joanne Tosti-Vasey of the National Organization for Women in Pennsylvania (NOW) was appalled by statements made by our beloved Joe Paterno last week at a press conference when Paterno commented on the nature of the suspension of Florida State linebacker A.J. Nicholson. Paterno said:

“There's so many people gravitating to these kids. He may not have even known what he was getting into, Nicholson. They knock on the door; somebody may knock on the door; a cute girl knocks on the door. What do you do?"

“Geez. I hope - thank God they don't knock on my door because I'd refer them to a couple of other rooms," Paterno continued. "But that's too bad. You hate to see that. I really do. You like to see a kid end up his football career. He's a heck of a football player, by the way; he's a really good football player. And it's just too bad."

Mrs. Toasty-Facey failed to put in her hearing aid (or perhaps reading glasses) and heard/read: “Those damn women are always parading around college students hoping to get sexually assaulted. They knock on door after door until they find someone they recognize from ESPN College Gameday and go in for the kill of the player’s college career. Thank goodness they have never knocked on my door because I’d call down Levi Brown and Calvin Lowry and have them show her a good time. It’s all in good fun, she gets what she deserves. All women suck and should stay away from men unless they’re married and then not be able to wear clothes…yeah, that’d be nice.”

In short, Mrs. Tosti-Vasey can take her and her burnt-vased friends and start picking on all of the other prestigious upright men in this country. While you’re at it, why not accuse the President of thinking women should all be textile workers and Bill Cowher of seating his wife in the press box instead of making some play calls on the field. Joe Pa, just ignore the pesky National Organization for Women. Last time I checked, the NOW was right below the ACLU and the KKK on the list of America's worst organizations.

On a lighter note, I’ve started to learn how to play the guitar. As soon as you read that, some sort of emotion escaped your mind, and I’m willing to place bets that it was either the thought of pity, scornful laughter, “Silly Tyler”, “He just wants girls”, or “You’re finally becoming a man.” I appreciate the encouragement, but I’ll lay out my reasoning now:

1. Boredom. (I sense you are still lacking sufficient reason, so I’ll continue.)
2. I’ve considered myself moderately decent at writing, and feel that songs might be another outlet of my creative energy. (You are saying, “Okay, but you still haven’t debunked my argument.”)
3. I’ve always been one who has loved to perform in public, and while journalism has allowed me to do so in writing, there’s nothing like live music.

I doubt I have swayed everyone, but I guess those are my reasons. If I end up sucking, I will have gone through the experience with calloused fingers, knowledge of guitar tablature, and some words trapped in the depths of my mind finally in song form. Ah, that was better. Progress has been surprising actually. The first time I picked it up, I tried tuning it by ear (who ever heard of electric tuners?) and broke the 1 string (whoops). With a fresh set of strings and some time to contemplate whether the broken string was a sign from God for me to stop, I picked up the portable music device and strummed away. My dad proudly whipped out his old songbooks, and pointed me to Rod Stewart’s “Maggie May” as the first of my songs to learn, which I tried, and then went online and found the Athlete song, “Wires,” which I preferred much more. So I have spent the past two days with hurt fingers but a determined spirit and have done pretty well (I think). Some will say that I’m too late, but I figure if I want to learn, this is pretty much my last chance.

I want to dispel some rumors. I have been walking down Allen Street quite a bunch (not really) and heard some people chattering about some handsome man returning to the Nittany Mall to work a petite pretzel store, the Pretzel Gourmet. Yes, those rumors are true. The other ones claiming that I was robbed at cane-point by an elderly gentleman on his way to Albuquerque are only moderately true…the cane had a gun inside, but he was so nice! Anyway, I have returned to the PG under a measly salary and am now the only person working at the store whose permanent residence is in State College (insert exclamation or scornful comment). While I am the most experienced, I am the most underpaid; while I am the most recognizable to the mall patrons, the crew is completely new and couldn’t pick me out of a police lineup. So I guess you could say things have been interesting, but I’ve met some new people and it has definitely been a different experience. Holidays have sucked, and when people at the mall wouldn’t stop coming, my mood was usually unusually snappy. But I endured (with God’s help) and things are peachy now.

I have to add a specific moment to my archive of PG Ridiculous Moments. This is probably the moment that confused me the most. Okay, I lie, when one customer complained that his Icee was too airy, that was a bit confusing if not stupid, but this moment is up there. Before requesting a 21 ounce cup of our world-famous Strawberry Sensation Smoothie (oh, they’re sensational all right), one young woman inquired, “Is the yogurt you use active yogurt?” Yeah, we have our yogurt base in the back running on the treadmill to keep it’s calories down. Let me go make sure it’s in its target heart rate zone. Completely blown out of the water, I drag the yogurt box to the counter and prop it up so she can read the label. “Okay,” she sighed, “It’s not active, I can’t have it. Bye.” C’mon yogurt! Bring up that heart rate! You’re slacking today! I’m adding three more miles to your run today. I now know that when customers ask about our yogurt, I will politely tell them, “Yes, our yogurt base is 5% low-fat and inactive. If you’re looking for active yogurt, either supply us with a yogurt trainer or hit the road, buddy.” I’m working there until I leave for the Grove once again on the 20th, so if you’re cool, come see me!

As I said before I stopped leaving regular posts, I have been reading quite a bit now that I have had more time off. If you’re interested in some good reads, I will suggest Odd Thomas by Dean Koontz. It’s a good mystery novel that is deeply entertaining. I am also in the middle of The Man Who Was Thursday by Gilbert Keith Chesterton (probably my favorite author) and also recommend that book for those looking for something to do.

Wow, I went one paragraph without a joke, nice! So I don’t think I would be doing my audience any service if I didn’t comment some on Grove City. After all, GCC is where my heart is…so yes. Laura, my awesome friend from school, left last week for Mexico on a two week missions trip. She is majoring in Spanish and International Business, so this trip is right up her alley and I pray that she’s having an awesome time serving the people there but moreover serving God and fulfilling his plan for her. The guys of Third Floor Memorial Crawford are still the best group of guys with which I’ve ever been. They’ve taught me a lot about things, especially what it’s like to live for God, I can’t imagine a college experience without that awesome supportive environment. So guys, if you’re out there, you rock, and I can’t wait to come back to school. People always ask me, “So how’s school going?” I tell them, “Amazing, best time of my life! I can’t wait to go back,” and sometimes I get, “Why?!” as if school were something not to be enjoyed. School has never really been that way, and now that I feel that the things I’m learning matter all the more, the experience is magical. Combine the education with the extra-curricular experience, and I can’t see being anywhere else. God placed me in Grove City, I’m trying now to discover what he wants me to do.

Majors are a tricky thing. We all choose majors, but I don’t think we see their magnitude. I guess I’m being general and specific at the same time. I suppose majors like Business or Economics aren’t very specific and can open up lots of opportunities; but when you talk about Electrical Engineering or Math Education, that’s what you’ll do once you leave. So I guess you can say that I’m having my doubts. For those of you who don’t know, I have changed my major from History Education to Math Education. I am still doubtful, but I remain in prayer and I am confident that if I continue to seek God that he will reveal his plan for my life.

I’ve been doing a lot of Bible verse memorization lately. When I set out to do it at first, I had my usual, mortal doubts, but (and I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised) it has been amazing how much I have been blessed through it. In my third month now, I have written a Bible verse on an index card and carried it around in my pocket, whipping it out whenever a dull moment arises (trust me, there are more than you think). Now, I do not profess to know every single one of the verses I have memorized, but I am familiar, and I do know a decent number of them through and through. Stale time at the PG has been wonderful because it has allowed me to go back and memorize a big stack of verses I tug along with me to work, and it’s awesome to feel God tugging at my heart whenever a verse comes up. The PG has been a blessing in disguise because I mostly work alone during not very busy times and it has allowed me to do a lot of thinking.

My spiritual walk has had its highs and lows lately. As I said, the verse memorization and the introduction of continual devotionals and prayer have been tremendous highs, but I can feel the world always trying to pull me away from spending time with God, perhaps this here is one of those things. There are days where I can really feel God with me, and days I feel him faintly, and I think I sense that because he’s trying to make me realize that he truly is the most important thing in my life. I say that a lot, and if people ask me that in person that’s what I will tell them. But when it comes down to knowing in your heart if God is the one thing in your life that you love the most, it means showing it! And for me, showing has turned into a lot of talk, and a walk that isn’t where it could be. Romans 12:1 is perhaps my favorite verse: “Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God – this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is – his good, pleasing, and perfect will.”[my italics] I’ve been frustrated lately concerning my call and where God wants me to go, but I think God is just telling me, “Alright alright, Tyler, calm down. Be patient. I’m in control. You need to live completely for me and stop concerning yourself with things that are of this world, things that are fleeting. Rather, renew your mind; then, and only then, will you be able to discern my will for you.” That’s exciting! So many verses are popping into my head as I write and I could write on each of them for hours, but I want to finish my thoughts here. To know that there is a God who loved me so much by granting me eternal life in Heaven, and that he has a plan, a purpose(!) for me, is astounding. The Bible says, “It’s in Christ that we find who we are and what we are living for. Long before we heard of Christ…, he had his eye on us, and designs on us for glorious living part of the overall purpose he is working out in everything and everyone.” (Eph. 1:11-12) Nothing, anywhere, can offer me more intrinsic value and worth that those verses. There are countless more that affirm those statements, but if I ever need a shock, a spark of something that just fills all that I am with life and a sense of worth, it’s right there, and that something is God. If only everyone lived with that sense of worth. If only everyone knew that God has a purpose for their life, and that that God-given purpose is “good, pleasing, and perfect,” how different would the world be? I started this paragraph saying I’ve been having my highs and lows; this is a high. God “is a rewarder of those who diligently seek his will.” (Heb. 11:6). I’ve been distracted the last couple of days because I’ve conformed to the ways of this world; I think the momentum has just taken a turn for God.

Thank you faithful readers for sticking with me through the website change. Because I am rarely on AIM at home (because of some weird problem I cannot resolve), stick this site on your favorites and jump back here every so often. I should be updating more, especially since Penn State students are back in session and I’ll be bored. My guitar-stricken fingers have had just about enough for now. To think I’ve written the equivalent of a nine-page college paper is kind of sickening. I need some Nyquil.