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It’s done! I am in my new house. It’s so empty I feel like I could play basketball in here. I am leaning against the wall…this has been a long time coming.

1. I read books on how to buy a house. I would rather look at books on designing and decorating homes.
2. I looked at dozens of homes in a dozen of neighborhoods. I tucked the classifieds in my back pocket and rode my skateboard from home to home.
3. I decided what was important to me and refined my priorities (Good.) I know I am young and I have to shake off my youthful fascinations. I could buy a 1500 square foot tree house with a fireman’s pole, but who would buy it from me when I am done? There are only so many eccentric people.
4. I read more books.
5. I talked to several realtors and chose a good one. I hope. Who’s really on my side? Who is willing to work hard to find the right home? Who won’t lie to me just to get me into a house so they can get their commission?
6. I prayed. God help me. Do You help people buy houses too?
7. I looked for house I am really doing this. There are adults working with me. Can I do this?
8. I researched how to take out a mortgage. More fun than a box of dirt.
9. Looked for a house. Ugh…is there a perfect house? Yes, but it’s not the perfect price. This house smells funny. What could possibly make that smell?
10. Where do I want to put my money? The stock market could pick up.
11. I liked a house and decided to buy it. Someone bought it first. That’s not cool.
12. I liked a second house and decided to buy it. Someone bought it first. That’s not cool at all.
13. I shopped around mortgage brokers. These people will lie to you, manipulate information, and not tell you a lot of stuff. It’s as much fun as licking a dishrag.
14. I found a house I liked and “bought it” that day. That was scarier than a roller coaster.
15. We played ping-pong with the price of the house. It’s fair. I was hoping for “darn cheap” but it’s a good house.
    16.I had the place inspected, then fixed.
16. I found a title agency. That was not particularly exciting, but there were ten women for every one guy who worked there.
17. Got a homeowners warranty. Brochures are boring.
18. Found a good insurance policy. Again, making sure I was getting the best coverage at the right rate.
19. Signed my life and fortune away with a wobbly hand.
20. Went wild on the last day making everything connect.

This afternoon I’ll finish packing up my apartment so we can move out tonight. Just maybe I’ll be sleeping in the same bed, but in a new house. Something I worked very hard for.

Morning:
I howled through the streets driving an Integra with 250 horsepower. I never knew a car could go that fast. I was so surged by the time I got into bed, I still wasn’t settled down.

I am sitting in a hotel lobby. Most hotels are the same….the same stiff furniture, framed art, stale coffee, and patterned carpet.

Last night was special. It is good to be on the road again, hanging out with wonderful people I didn’t know yesterday. Soon someone will walk through the door and know my name. We’ll be off to the next place to make more new friends.

:::

Night:
The earth is twinkling underneath me, the airplane humming around me, jostling through the turbulence as we climb to 30k feet. That’s what the pilot says. In a couple hours, I’ll be dragging my suitcase across an empty parking lot. I’ll pull photos off the wall and fill up more boxes. In one week, I’ll be in my new house! It’s going to be such a good experience.

Tonight was beautiful. Last at the Woodlands was peaceful and affirming, and tonight—the plane keeps jerking around—at St. Mary’s on the Gulf was just right. It’s so great to look out at a group young people, with an opportunity to help them…to make their life better. I felt like a real missionary tonight. I am ready to get to the studio tomorrow morning and get going on next version of lifeteen.com.

Dear God that was scary.

For the past five minutes, the plane ducked and swayed. My seatbelt held me down as the plane bucked hard. I caught my laptop, shut my eyes and held on tight as we slammed through the sky. It’s getting better. Stay calm and pray hard. It’s getting violent again.

Dear Lord, please don’t take me. I have so much to do. Please God…

The flight is still bumpy, jerking side to side every fifteen seconds. Coffee is spilling. People are yelling…I am going to stay calm and this will be through. It has to. My arms…the arches of my feet are tingling with adrenaline.

The plane is calm. The bumps are gone and everyone feels better. The captain is comforting everyone on the speakers as the flight attendants are handing out napkins for spills. It’s time to finish the movie.

I am going to turn this computer off and pray some more.

Josh Groban. I listened to that CD five times yesterday, and another four times today.

The song “Vincent” tells about how the world wasn’t ready for a man as beautiful as Vincent Van Gogh. I’ve enjoyed Van Gogh’s paintings since elementary school. I’ve spent countless hours researching his works and replicated three of his paintings. One of those I did three times: fifth grade in colored pencil, 10th grade oil pastels, and an 11th grade mural. Then I finally made a trip to see “Starry Night.” This song laces together that patchwork of memories with my lost friend, Vincent Van Gogh.

It was the end of the day, and I had a long drive to have dinner with friends. I cranked up the car and cranked up the music—ready to tear through the streets. I turned it off before my heat kicked in. What trash. I mean, songs about killing people, buying things, and cheating on your girlfriend. Last night, I read an article about Snoop Dog, and he said, “people dream about murder, crime, and drugs, and that’s what I give them.” Is that what Utopia is, a place to fantasize about all the awful things we’ve worked so hard to overcome?

It’s like we broadcast the lowest form of humanity to entertain the world.

On the drive home after dinner, I tuned into the BBC to hear what the British take on world news. One of their top stories was a recent poll that pretty much confirmed non-Americans don’t like Americans. In Jordan and Egypt, 80% of the people do not like America. I can see why. Our most prolific delegates are music, movies, and television shows. While people of the world suffer from political unrest and oppression, 29 million people in the U S of A lounge in their McMansions, tuned in to which contestant the bachelor would choose to spend the rest of his life with in unholy matrimony.

I am disgusted. Why don’t people try harder to make the world better? There are too many people that go swinging through life living for the self. Vincent Van Gogh had such a gift, and he gave it until his death. The world wasn’t ready for him, but that was no reason for him to stop sharing his passion.

My mind is everywhere trying to sort out the mess we’ve gotten ourselves into. The party across the street will keep going, and so will the train in the distance. My fingers are cold. I am going to snuggle under these covers. I’ve got work to do tomorrow.

Wow…what a beautiful CD.

I’d never heard of this guy, but a friend of mine wanted to be sure I had it for my birthday. Curious, I put in the CD and let it go.

By the second song, I understood. I had to skip back to the beginning just to experience it again. I closed my eyes and traced the sky with my hands. I conducted the symphony beyond my desk.

I told my sister Katie about the CD, and she instant messaged me that morning. She was crying, dancing with newborn baby, spinning around dancing through her living room. The music just swirls around the room, pulls you out of the moment, this day, this week, this year. How happy does it make God when we seize life beyond the moment? To see one of His children create music. Then we close our eyes to be washed by that which can’t be seen.

It’s hard to look cool buying four flats of toilet paper. I mean, it was on sale, so why not get it? You will ALWAYS use toilet paper so it’s either now or later.

Standing at the check out, I bonded with everyone around me. Yes, we all poop.

One trip…I can make it in one trip. I disparately tried to carry all four mega packs of paper up to my apartment, but they were just too big. That means I had two opportunities to walk past pretty girls with plush white tucked underneath my armpits.

I passed people and made a real stressed-out face, like I was a man counting the paces to the big explosion. And if they laughed it was only because they’ve been there too.

I made the next shipment later today. Everyone was out on the street having a night around town, wearing the best clothes sipping their favorite coffee. I marched through them all, my two flats of goodness high above my head. Raise the roof for TP.

Once up the stairs, I hurled them on the floor and roared. I am a man. I use the bathroom.